A Simple Fairy Tale: A Cinderella Story
by Tinuviel Undomiel
Summary: Co written Nerwen Aldarion. The title says it all, Elizabeth is forced into servitude by her evil stepmother and Teyla is her kind stepsister. The two team up together to find their prince charmings and maybe happily ever after. Shweir, TeylaRonon
1. Prologue: Once Upon A Time

Disclaimer: We don't own Stargate: Atlantis or even the character Rodmilla

A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: I love this story because, like all girls, I love fairy tales. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and maybe it will help you believe in fairy tale true love again. We borrowed the character Rodmilla from Ever After because she was the best evil stepmother I had ever seen.

A/N Nerwen Aldarion: This little idea popped up while watching Ever After waaay too many times, sort of a mixture of Ever After, Ella Enchanted, Stargate: Atlantis and the book The Princess Bride. It is sarcastic funny, action adventure and a little naughty. Have fun.

* * *

A Simple Fairy Tale

Prologue: Once Upon A Time…

_Stories are wings that carry you away into distant lands. You listen to them with an eager ear while your mind drifts into the adventure. You might ask yourself how these stories start, where they began. Well that is simple enough. While legends and myths are filled with falsehoods, all stories have a grain of truth in them. As they are passed on through the generations, the storyteller uses their right to embellish the tale to add more thrill and meat to the story. _

_This story we are about to tell you is the bare facts. Perhaps you have heard this before. It has been branded a fairy tale and watered down so it can be told to young children before they drift off to sleep. This is not a children's story, nor is it a fairy tale exactly. Just because fairies and other magical elements are in this tale doesn't mean it is a story meant for the young._

_You don't believe in magic? Why ever not? Just because you have never seen a fairy doesn't mean they don't exist. Perhaps this tale will open your eyes again, just like when you were a child when you did believe in magic. _

_You know the story I am about to tell I see. You laugh and call it the paltry name Cinderella, but you don't know the other half of it. The years and years of telling the story have stripped it of the facts. Let me show you how it really was. Let me help you believe in magic._

_Ah yes, now to begin. How about I start with four familiar words?_

_Once Upon a Time…_

* * *

In the kingdom of Carida lived a young noble woman. While it was expected of her, like in most kingdoms, for her to marry a duke or a count this woman fell in love with a simple merchant. Unlike most noble parents, this woman's mother and father were quite happy that she chose a merchant over a duke or a count and welcomed her husband. 

Within the first year of their marriage, the noble woman and her merchant gave birth to a daughter who they named Elizabeth. They were not alone when their child was born, their cook Andra was present as well as three fairies.

_I heard you groan at the word fairies. I told you already that this is the true story and that fairies exist. If you can't get that through your thick skull then get out of the room! Now, where was I?_

It is a rarity for fairies to attend births and it might seem strange that they would choose this ordinary couple. You see, this noble woman had an extraordinary guardian, a fairy godmother. Fairy godmothers and godfathers are gifts very few people receive. Years and years ago, this noble woman's great great great great grandfather saved the life of a fairy. Fairies take debts seriously and life debts are the highest honor anyone can receive. In return for his rescue, she promised to guard him and his descendents until the bloodline ended.

As the fairies gathered around the sleeping infant they foresaw a vision of the future. You see, this child had a destiny in front of her that would change Carida forever.

Once the vision passed, one fairy stepped forward and smiled at the babe.

"I see great loss striking you at an early age," she said, "I see you beaten and tired from the labors of the wicked. You will be a flower sprung from the mud, beautiful but forgotten. You must be kind to those who need it and cunning against those who seek to destroy you. Remember, the truth will defeat any lie but never wait until it is too late for it to be vanquished. And never forget that love may be a risk but it is also the greatest joy."

Then the fairies gathered themselves and left but they kept a watchful eye over the child and her parents. When the girl was five, her mother died of the Red Fever, an incurable ailment. The child and her father grieved for their loss but as time passed they grew closer than ever before.

_You look bored. Is that because this sounds like the same fairy tale you were told as a child? I did say there was some truth to the story. You say that there is no kingdom of Carida. Perhaps not now but not all history is written in books. Oh, and now you don't like her name. Let me ask you, what parent in their right mind would name their daughter Cinderella? At last you are silent. _

_Now to continue with the story, here is where Elizabeth's troubles really begin._

* * *

Sunlight glittered down through the green leaves of the oak trees and birds chirped the good fortune of the lovely spring day. A grey manor house overlooked the simple farm and seemed the stand proudly over its rich ground. Servants bustled about with their chores, the men working the fields while the women cooked and did the laundry. 

An older woman with silver hair bent over the oven and took out a tray of baked cookies. She placed them on the stone table and wiped the sweat from her wrinkled brow. The only part of this woman that looked young were her light blue eyes, the same shade of the sky. These eyes smiled at the luscious dessert and then looked around in surprise.

"Oh where has she gone to now?" she asked to no one in particular. "Ellie?" she asked to the air but there was no response. "Ellie?" she asked again louder. "Elizabeth, where are you?!"

Elizabeth was no where near enough to her the woman calling for her. In fact, she was not even in the manor. She was outside, picking yellow and pink flowers and gathering them into a small bouquet. Once she decided she had enough, she walked over to a gated corner of the grounds. The iron gate creaked as she pushed it open and then closed it behind her. The grass in here was thick and well kept with no weeds to be found. Several stone slabs were planted in neat rows with inscriptions carved on their faces.

Elizabeth walked up to one stone and knelt down on her knees in front of it. The writing sculpted elegantly on the front said _Driana Weir, Loving Wife and Mother_. She placed the bouquet in front of the headstone and gave it a sad smile.

"Hello mother," she said, "It's me, Elizabeth. I don't know if you can tell, but everyone has been busy on the manor lately. You see, daddy has been gone for about a month now and he's coming back today, but he's not alone."

She paused in her speech and shifted her position so she was sitting on her skirt in the grass. "Daddy left to get his new wife. Please don't be too upset. He told me that he would always love you, but he said that I needed a new mother." A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. "My new mother will never replace you though, even if she is bringing with her two sisters. I promise to come here and talk to you every day, that won't change. And I swear to never love my new mother as much as I love you."

She stood up and pressed her fingers to her lips before placing them on top of the stone. "Goodbye, mother," Elizabeth said before leaving the family cemetery.

She walked over to the fields and watched the men tend the vegetables and picking apples from the orchard. Ethan was the head of the menservants and kept a watchful eye over his charges. When Elizabeth appeared at his side he gave her a smile. "Are you anxious for your father to come home?"

She nodded, "Do you think he'll bring presents?"

"Doesn't he always?"

"Ethan!" Marta called as she walked up to her husband carrying a basket of freshly folded linen, "We need a man to catch a chicken for the dinner tonight. With the new mistress coming it has to be special."

"Yes, dear."

"Ellie, Andra was looking for you," Marta informed the girl.

Elizabeth's green eyes brightened, "The cookies! Thanks Marta!" she called before rushing off to the manor house.

She threw open the front door and left it like that as she ran through the main hall. Her shoes slipped on the polished stone and she nearly fell. She managed to gather her balance again and continued her sprint to the kitchen. The dining room was being set by two servants with a white lace table cloth. They looked up when they saw the girl run past them. Elizabeth opened the door the kitchen where she saw Andra mixing eggs in a bowl.

"There you are," Andra stated upon seeing her, "I made those cookies upon your request and then you take off without saying a word."

"I'm sorry, Andra," she apologized, "I went to talk to my mother."

Her scolding look fell and she placed the plate of cookies in front of Elizabeth. "Did you talk to her about your new stepmother?"

Elizabeth nodded, "I wanted her to understand that just because I'm getting a new mother doesn't mean I won't love her anymore."

"I'm sure she understood."

She took a bite of her cookie. "Do you think the wedding was nice?"

"I'm sure it was lovely."

"Do you think Daddy missed me?"

Andra smiled and brushed the crumbs from her chin with a rag, "I'm sure he did."

"I wish he didn't have to miss my birthday."

"I know, sweetheart, but the baroness had scheduled the wedding on that day." Andra sifted flour into the mixing bowl and handed Elizabeth the spoon for her to stir. "Imagine how surprised he'll be when he sees he sees how much you've grown now that you're eight."

"That's true," Elizabeth said as she carefully stirred the mixture, "I hope my stepsisters like me."

"They are both close to your age so I imagine all three of you will have a lot of fun together."

"Do you think the baroness will like me?"

"She will love you," Andra declared, "You are the sweetest child ever born in Carida, I've said that many times."

Elizabeth smiled, "Thanks."

Marta rushed into the kitchen panting to catch her breath. "The master has arrived!"

"Daddy!" Elizabeth exclaimed and pushed the bowl aside so she could race past Marta.

All of the servants were gathering in a line outside of the manor and Ethan was walking in front of them making sure they stood up straight. Sir Henry Weir rode up on his horse from the road leading to the manor. A carriage led by four horses prodded along a short distance behind him.

Henry stopped his horse in front of his servants and climbed down. "Good to see you again, Ethan."

"Welcome home, master," her replied as he took the reins from his hands. "How bodes our new mistress?"

"She is well and anxious to meet her new daughter."

The patter of small footsteps caught Henry's attention and he smiled as the front door burst open and a blur of blue silk and lace rushed towards him. "Daddy!"

He opened his arms and she leapt into them. They laughed as he twirled her around and peppered her curly brown hair with kisses.

When he finally put her back down he stayed bent over so they were eye level. "I missed you so much," his daughter said.

"And I you," he replied and kissed her cheek, "Oh I wish I could have brought you with me. On many nights I found myself ready to saddle my horse and cart you away like a thief."

They hugged again but the sound of carriage wheels crushing the earth broke them apart. It came up to the manor house and stood still. Elizabeth stared at the windows covered with lace and felt her throat tighten. Her heart thudded in her chest.

Ethan came up to the door of the carriage and opened it. A small figure stepped forward and revealed itself to be a pretty black haired girl perhaps a year or two older than Elizabeth. She sniffed at the manor and stepped off to the side.

"This is your stepsister, Joceline," Henry whispered in his daughter's ear.

Another girl appeared, this time closer to her age, with red-brown hair instead of black. A silver chain with a blue stone hung over her chest. She peered at the manor with curiosity and her gaze stopped at Elizabeth. She looked at her new stepsister for several moments before stepping to the opposite side of the carriage, facing her sister.

"Your other stepsister, Teyla," her father said. But Elizabeth could barely hear him. All of her focus was on the final new member of her family yet to appear.

A lily white hand emerged first. The fingers were adorned with several glittering rings and white lace peeked at the wrist. Ethan gently grasped the hand and at last her stepmother stepped free from the carriage.

Baroness Rodmilla Emmagen eyed first the manor and then the servants. Unlike with her daughters, Elizabeth couldn't tell if she admired or detested her new home. Her eyes were blank. At last those opaque blue eyes fell on her stepdaughter. At her gaze, Elizabeth's heart reached an impossible rhythm. Her father and the servants disappeared; all that was left was her and those terrifying eyes.

Rodmilla broke the stare and smiled at her husband. "Henry, everything is picturesque. It's so much lovelier than I ever could have imagined."

"Milla, may I introduce my daughter, Elizabeth," Henry said, "Ellie, this is Rodmilla, your stepmother."

Her smile changed as it turned towards Elizabeth. For some reason, it seemed less real to the young child. "At last we meet. Your dear father rarely speaks of anything else. I feel we know each other already."

Rodmilla clapped her hands. "Ladies, greet your new sister." Joceline and Teyla stepped forward and curtsied elegantly.

Elizabeth smiled, "Hello."

Joceline's face remained blank but Teyla gave her a small smile.

While her father spoke to his wife about the plans he had for the manor, Elizabeth watched as Ethan and the other servants removed the luggage from the carriage. She recognized her father's one trunk but stared wide eyed and the multitude still being unloaded. Did all three of them need this much stuff?

Her eyes found her stepmother again. She was extraordinarily beautiful with the same black hair as Joceline's and deep blue eyes. Her skin was so white that Elizabeth wondered how it was possible for it to be so colorless. She found herself staring at her own brown hands and touched her unkempt curls. Her stepsisters had been traveling all day but she saw that their dresses were unwrinkled. They didn't move from their spots by the carriage.

She had been both excited and frightened when she first learned that she was getting and mother and sisters, now all that was left was a cold shiver running down her spine.

* * *

That night Elizabeth giggled as her father chased her around her bed chamber. One candle was lit by the bedside but the fire in the heart added a rosy glow to the room. She was dressed in her white nightshift and her brown curls were washed and freshly brushed. 

Henry cornered her between a chair and the bureau. "I have you now."

Elizabeth laughed and ducked beneath his outstretched arms and raced over to the other side of the bed. Her father dove across the bed and grabbed a hold of her waist before pulling her up with him. They laughed as he held her in his arms.

"Are you leaving soon?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"Not for another two weeks."

"Good," she said, cheerful again.

Henry pulled back the coverlet and she lay between the blankets. He carefully tucked her in and then smiled. "What do you think of them?"

Elizabeth frowned in thought before remarking, "They ate their dinner funny."

He laughed and nodded. "Rodmilla was raised in court; they have more elegant table manners than us." He propped up on his elbow so he was eye level with her. "When you are older you will be introduced to court. Milla will teach you the proper way to behave there."

Her eyes grew heavy with concern. "Does that mean I can't have fun anymore?"

He chuckled, "No of course not. I expect you will teach your new stepsisters how to climb trees and fish in the pond."

"Oh yes!"

Henry laughed again and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. "Do you like them?"

Elizabeth nodded, "Yes." In truth she wasn't really sure. She had barely spoken to her stepmother and sisters.

"I'm glad," he said, "I'm sorry that I missed your birthday."

"It's okay," she assured him.

Henry smiled, "You're growing up so fast. Every day you are looking so much more like your mother."

He sat up suddenly. "That reminds me." Her father left the bed and picked up a bag he had discarded on the floor by the door. Elizabeth sat up to see what he was doing.

When he came back he was carrying something wrapped in blue velvet. He sat down on the bed and uncovered the surprise. Elizabeth gasped at what was revealed.

A glass woman stood gracefully on a small, round mirror. Her dress was painted a pale pink and she had tiny pink shoes on her feet. Her hair was blond and she wore a gold crown over it. Gossamer wings spread from her back. In her hand was a gold wand with a small diamond on the end.

"It's a fairy," he told her as he placed it in her hands, "I thought you would like it."

"I love it!"

Henry laughed, "Your mother wanted me to wait until you were eighteen, but I think you are old enough now." He touched the fairy's hair with his fingertips. "Fairies are very special creatures; did your mother ever tell you about that?"

Elizabeth nodded in reply.

"Well your mother's family had strong ties to the fairies. In fact, you have a fairy godmother."

"Really?" she asked in disbelief.

Henry nodded, "Your mother told me about her the day you were born."

"Can I meet her?"

"I've never met her myself," he admitted, "but perhaps one day you will."

"I hope so," Elizabeth said while staring at her fairy figurine.

Henry put the fairy on the stand next to her bed, "Whenever I'm not here, remember that your fairy godmother will always be looking out for you." He kissed her on the forehead before saying, "Goodnight, Ellie."

"Are you always going to call me that?" she asked.

He frowned, "I thought you liked it."

"I do, but you can't call me that forever."

"I suppose you're right, it really is more of a child's name," he said and paused in thought. He smiled, "When you are older I'll call you Ella."

"Not Elizabeth?"

Henry shook his head, "You are my pet so you need a pet name."

Elizabeth giggled, "You're funny daddy."

He smiled before kissing her on the forehead again, "Good night, Ella, I love you."

"I love you too," she said before he blew out the candle and shut the door.

* * *

Several months passed and Elizabeth was still isolated from her stepfamily. She saw them often enough, but they were always sewing or playing lutes. She wasn't entirely sure how to get to know such docile creatures. Her father hadn't been feeling well so she told her complaints to Andra. 

"Don't let their coyness intimidate you," she instructed as she measured sugar and dumped it in the bowl Elizabeth was mixing, "Ask them questions; offer to play with your stepsisters."

"I've never seen them play," Elizabeth said.

"Never?"

She shook her head, "All they do is sew, read and play music."

Andra put down her spoon and pursed her lips. "Hmm," she said in thought before saying, "I have an idea. Why don't you go ask your stepsisters if they want to help us make pies? This way you can make friends with them."

Elizabeth's eyes brightened and she smiled. "That's a great idea. I'll go ask them now."

She slid off of her stool and ran out of the kitchen. Upstairs Rodmilla was doing embroidery while Joceline played the harpsichord and Teyla accompanied her on the lute. She looked up from her sewing when she heard the patter of footsteps. Her stepdaughter rushed into the sitting room but she chose to ignore her.

Joceline gave Elizabeth a brief glance before continuing with her music. Teyla stopped altogether and faced her stepsister, giving her a light smile.

"Hello," Elizabeth said timidly, "The village is having a feast tomorrow. It's for the coming summer. Everyone bakes sweets and there is dancing. They even pick a King and Queen of Roses."

"Does any of this have a point?" Joceline stopped her playing to ask.

"Andra and I were baking pies for the festival and we were wondering if you wanted to help."

Rodmilla raised her head, "You help your servants with their chores?"

"Sometimes," Elizabeth replied, "When I'm not playing or reading."

"You should never assist your servants, dear," her stepmother said, "Otherwise they feel that they are your equal and are too good to do the jobs they are paid for."

"Daddy doesn't mind my helping."

"He wouldn't, would he," she said to herself, "Don't you play any instruments?"

"No."

"What about embroidery?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"What do you do besides housework?"

"I play with the villagers," she said, "I climb trees, fish in the pond, read books outside and lots of other things."

Rodmilla set down her embroidery and stood up. She circled around her stepdaughter and shook her head. What she saw was mussed brown hair, a wrinkled red dress and worn, leather shoes.

"I see I will have to turn you into a young lady," she stated, "That means no more climbing trees or helping servants. You will learn to play an instrument, sew and other more suitable activities. My daughters will be glad to assist you, won't you girls?"

"Yes, mother," they said at the same time.

"But, I don't want to sew or play music," Elizabeth said.

A glint appeared in Rodmilla's blue eyes, a shine that frightened the young girl. "Oh, you don't want to. I hate to inform you, Elizabeth, but you are no longer the mistress of this house. What you want doesn't matter anymore, you will do as I say and not utter one word of complaint." Her eyes narrowed in on her stepdaughter, "Do you understand?"

Elizabeth nodded, "Yes."

"Good." Rodmilla returned to her seat and continued with her sewing. The room was silent for several moments as Teyla and Joceline stared at their stepsister. Joceline had a smug smile on her face while her sister looked on with sympathy. Their gazes were lost to Elizabeth who stared at the floorboards.

Music began to play again and she knew it was the opportune time to leave. She slowly walked out of the room. Once she made it down the hallway she picked up her pace and raced over to the other side of the manor. The hum of the harpsichord faded from her ears and she felt like she could breathe again.

She needed to talk to her father. Surely he would never force her to obey her stepmother's edict and reform her into a docile young lady. He had said so himself that she could continue with her games. Perhaps if she told him about what Rodmilla had said he could convince his wife that his daughter was fine on her own.

She walked at a brisk pace to her father's study on the first floor. Candlelight was the only illumination in the room. Her eyes saw her father sitting at his desk with his head bent over his ledger.

"Daddy?" she asked in a small voice, "Are you busy?"

He didn't answer.

"Daddy?" she asked again and took a few more steps into the room, "Can I tell you something?"

Silence was all that responded to her.

Elizabeth walked up to his desk and tapped on his shoulder, "Daddy?"

Henry didn't move a muscle. He made no response at all to her gesture. She walked around to his side and saw that he was not bent over his desk at work; he was collapsed on top of it.

"Daddy?" she said with worry laced through her tone. His face looked strange but it was too dark to see. Elizabeth picked up a candle and brought it closer to get a better look

His eyes were closed and shallow breaths lightly rustled the papers of his account book. Red patches covered his face, reminding her of a rash she received once when she fell into a patch of poison oak. Elizabeth reached up and touched his face. Henry's skin was burning and clammy from sweat.

"Daddy?!" she cried and shook his shoulder, "Wake up, please, wake up!"

He didn't wake up.

* * *

The sun was bright, cruelly so as the ladies of the manor watched the men bury Sir Henry Weir's casket beside his first wife's grave. Elizabeth's cheeks were wet from her tears and her sleeve was damp. Rodmilla was dressed in black like her stepdaughter but her eyes were dry. She held her daughters' hands as her husband was laid to rest but she made no move to comfort her distraught stepdaughter. 

Once the dirt filled the grave, Rodmilla led Teyla and Joceline back to the house. Elizabeth stayed behind and stared at all that remained of her parents. One of the diggers placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry young mistress."

She didn't reply. The world was warm and lovely around her but inside her heart it was cold and frightening. How could the Fates be so cruel? She had lost her mother to the Red Fever, why did her father have to stolen from her as well?

Elizabeth sank to her knees in the dirt and let the tears fall again. They sprinkled the earth and watered her father's grave. The sobs shook her body and she lay down over her father.

"Please," she wept, "Come back! Don't leave me, daddy!"

She didn't know how long she was out there crying over her father's grave but at last all of her tears were shed. Once she was silent, Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Ellie," Andra whispered and gathered the child in her arms.

She buried her face into the cook's bosom and wished for her heart to repair itself. She didn't think she'd ever be happy again.

"It will be alright," Andra said as she stroked her hair.

"I'm going to miss him so much," she said and blinked back more tears.

"I know, baby, but the pain won't last." She wiped Elizabeth's cheeks with her knuckles and gave her a sad smile. "Your father loved you so much and he'll always be with you."

Elizabeth nodded and hugged her again. The words were only a small comfort but it was enough to stop the tears from falling again.

"Your stepmother wants you back at the manor," Andra said and kept an arm around her shoulders as they walked back to their home.

Rodmilla was waiting for her in her father's study. The room felt morose to her now when it used to be warm and inviting. She eyed the chair that she found her father in with disgust. Nothing would ever be the same now. Her life had lost the laughter it had once held.

"I see you are too overcome by your grief to care for your appearance," Rodmilla chastised as she stared at Elizabeth's dress. The black silk was covered with dirt that would take several washes to get out.

"Your father has left you alone in the world," her stepmother announced coldly, "you have no other family from either side of your parentage. You fall under my care now."

Her stepmother plucked at the emerald necklace at her throat and stared down at the small child. "I have chosen to be generous and not toss you out on the streets. However, I can't afford to care for you like my own daughters. If you are to live with us you must earn your keep."

It was a blatant lie. Henry had left a generous living for his wife but she wasn't about to waste money keeping his orphaned brat in luxury. She expected her to burst into tears and plead for mercy; instead the girl stared at the place her father once sat. Her face was blank of any feeling.

"Considering your habit of helping the servants, that shouldn't be a problem," Rodmilla continued, "Your things are to be sold and you will be moved to the attic. I expect you to work hard and if you displease me I will let you starve on the streets."

Elizabeth barely blinked. She made no protest at all to her stepmother's demands. Rodmilla tightened her jaw and glared at the child. "Do you understand what I am telling you?"

"Yes," her small voice replied, "I'm your servant now."

"Exactly, and you will obey every order I give you with out question or complaint." Rodmilla bent down so she was eye to eye with her stepdaughter. "You are nothing. You have no family, no money and no future. Be grateful for my generosity."

She turned away and stroked her jewels again. "Go and take off that ridiculous dress. Another one is waiting for you up in the attic."

Elizabeth walked out silently while Rodmilla dreamed about her own glorious future. She would host the best balls and soirees. She would be the envy of every woman in court and the desire of every man. Perhaps she would marry again. A wealthy count of duke who would elevate her to the status she belonged. If she played her cards right, she might get one of her daughters to catch the eye of the prince when they came of age. Then she would be what she should have been born into, royalty.

It was four flights of stairs up to the attic. By the time Elizabeth reached her new quarters she was out of breath and sweat trickled down her back. The door creaked open and she saw what her future was.

There was no bed, only a scratchy cot in the corner. The air was cold as there was no fireplace. She would have to get candles because the only light in the room came from a small window high up near the ceiling. A brown dress made of worn muslin was laid out on the mattress for her use.

Elizabeth sat down on the cot and held the dress in her hands. She was eight years old, orphaned, penniless and forced into servitude by her stepmother. She never imagined that her life would be torn into so many pieces at so young of an age. Tears had flown freely enough with the loss of her father, now she had another excuse to wet her sorrow. Instead she unbuttoned her silk dress and put on the tattered rags.

She could cry for her father, but she would never cry for herself.

TBC

* * *

A/N: I know, we all feel sorry for Elizabeth. Next chap we start it off with a bang and we meet Prince Charming, guess who he is, LOL. 


	2. Ruined in Every Sense of the Word

Disclaimer: We own nothing.

A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: This chapter is where break free of the normal and have you raising your eyebrows in surprise. Remember, we did say this would be naughty. Some cute stuff in here, no real romance yet however.

A/N Nerwen Aldarion: hey guys, here is the first chapter and sets the story. Next chapter is when the real adventure begins and we really get to meet the boys.

* * *

Chapter 1: Ruined in Every Sense of the Word

_Nothing of importance happened to Elizabeth until ten years later, not that nothing important happened, just nothing that plays an effect on the story. She grew up, worked until dusk and slaved away for her stepfamily. Now she is eighteen and a woman, a beautiful woman at that, her childhood scrawniness melted away, her eyes became a startling emerald green, and her hair became a mess of soft unruly brown curls. Many boys in the village had crushes on her but none suited her fancy. Besides she was much to busy to daydream about handsome men, the only future she saw was servitude for her stepmother. But I'm rambling and should get back to the story because I can see that you are rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath, if you don't want to listen to this story then leave, but as long as you are here listen up and stop complaining. Now where was I?_

_Oh yes, it wasn't until ten years later that an event occurred that marked the beginning of a change in Elizabeth's life, the remarkable thing is that it didn't involve her at all…_

It was near midnight at the manor when the carriage that contained Elizabeth's stepfamily came charging through the gates. "What are they doing back?" Andra asked aloud as they both rushed to the door.

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied, "they were supposed to stay at court, and the tournament welcoming home the prince isn't for another month."

_You might be wondering why the prince even left Carida. Well Naldar borders Carida and the royal families from both kingdoms have a long standing alliance, and part of the alliance includes that the heirs to the thrones spend time in each other's kingdom to learn their ways and get to know their allies. Prince John is just about to return from such a time and the tournament was to welcome him home. Anyways back to the story._

A short time later Rodmilla, Joceline, Teyla and Marta came charging through the door.

"I want to know what you did!" Teyla shouted at her sister.

"What makes you think I did anything?" Joceline asked thoroughly bored with the conversation.

"Because you are you!"

"Teyla let it go," Rodmilla told her youngest daughter, "You have been accusing Joceline since we left court." She took off her gloves and handed them to Elizabeth, "Lord Dex didn't want you so there is no point in arguing about it anymore."

"Yes he did!" Teyla yelled, "He did and he told me so until he made that horrid announcement that I know _you_," she pointed at Joceline, "had something to do with!"

"I didn't do anything Teyla," Joceline said her voice coated with fake sweetness, "you only have yourself to blame."

"_I_ didn't do anything," Teyla turned back to her mother, "I'm surprised you aren't upset about this mother, her actions have ruined both of us and forced us to leave immediately."

Joceline scoffed, "I'm not ruined, I'm the sweet, innocent sister, you're the one who got into trouble and got Lord Dex so angry."

Elizabeth looked at Andra, "Innocent and sweet? When did those words fit Joceline?" she whispered.

"You had something to do with it," Teyla repeated, "he would never have said those things otherwise, he loved me!"

Joceline laughed, "Obviously not."

That made Teyla snapped, she marched forward, reared back and punched her sister right in the eye. With a shriek Joceline fell the ground and immediately began to cry. Teyla certainly would have hit her sister again if Marta hadn't stopped her.

"Really Teyla that wasn't ladylike!" Rodmilla admonished her while she comforted her eldest daughter.

"That _thing_ isn't a lady, she's a monster!" Teyla said, "She ruined my life, she ruined everything!" And with a sob Teyla raced up the stairs to her room.

Rodmilla shook her head and took Joceline to her own room, barking at Elizabeth to bring some ice quickly.

But Elizabeth wasn't about to go anywhere until she learned what had happened. As soon as her stepevils left Andra and Elizabeth turned to Marta, anxious looks on their faces, "Alright what happened that caused the most wonderful memory I have of Joceline?" Elizabeth asked.

Marta glanced down the hallway her mistresses had disappeared down before leaning in close to tell them, "Not long after we arrived at court Teyla caught the eye of Lord Ronon Dex, the Lord of Windhurst, I've never seen anything like it! He was obviously in love with her and searched her out at every opportunity and it was love at first sight for Teyla, I mean the two became completely inseparable, much to the dismay of Mistress Rodmilla and Joceline. You know they have wanted Teyla to marry Crius Donar since he is good friends with the king."

Andra nodded, "Of course, they'll do anything they can to get Joceline to weasel her way to the Prince's side."

Marta continued, "Well I don't know what happened but I do know that today during the evening meal Lord Dex stood up to make an announcement. Everyone thought for certain he was going to announce his betrothal to Teyla, instead he told everyone there that she was a wh…" Marta paused and glanced at Elizabeth, "…an immoral woman, that she had been with other men and he would never in a thousand lifetimes consider marrying her."

"Are you serious?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

Marta nodded, "We had to leave immediately and Teyla is convinced that her family had something to do with it.

"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth said happily, "finally one of my horrible stepsisters got what they deserved."

"Really Elizabeth," Andra asked her, "do you really think that Teyla deserved _that_?"

"In my opinion…yes," Elizabeth stated firmly.

"Then perhaps your anger is blinding you," Andra told her, Rodmilla called out for Elizabeth to bring the ice and Elizabeth rushed to fulfill her request. Andra watched Elizabeth leave, "I just hope you open your eyes soon."

* * *

_We are skipping another month now. Oh don't give me that look, fairy tales have skipped hundreds of years, don't begrudge me a measly four weeks. _

_We are leaving Teyla's story behind for a bit, but don't you worry she will step back in soon enough. Perhaps you are wondering if Elizabeth ever has any moments of joy in her state of servitude. Yes, but they are few and far between. Here is one such moment when her stepmother is off of her back and she can be herself for short a while._

The manor was gloomy now that the Baroness and her daughters had been banished for a short time. Joceline was quickly bored and was anxious to return to court at the earliest possible moment. Teyla stayed tucked up in her room most of the time, only coming out when her mother forced her to.

It was the day of the tournament in celebration of the prince's homecoming. Every nobleman in the kingdom was to be there to cheer on the return of Carida's son. It was also the opportune time to show off their daughters to the future king, who had yet to choose a bride.

The capital city, Tirsa, was only a four hour carriage ride away from the manor. Since there were to be many people coming far and wide to welcome the prince, Andra and Elizabeth set out for the capital bringing with them vegetables and other goods grown from the manor.

Tirsa was filled with madness upon their arrival. Vendors shouted out their wares to passerby, jugglers and fire eaters showed off their tricks to the crowd. Elizabeth sat beside Andra on their rickety cart and smiled at the myriad of people.

They stopped their cart and paid two men to assist them in setting up their booth. Once the stall was complete, Elizabeth began to help Andra group their goods for sale. It was a simple job, but her eyes were drawn to the stone walls and the flag tipped towers that they guarded.

Three tomatoes rolled off of the stand and plopped onto the dirt. "Oh dear," Elizabeth said and bent down to retrieve the bruised vegetables.

"I'm sorry, Andra," she said.

"Don't distress yourself," Andra replied and smiled when she saw that Elizabeth was again staring at the wall. "Go have your fun, love."

"Oh no, I couldn't," she protested.

"Nonsense, you'll ruin more vegetables if you stay. I can handle the stall." Andra pushed her towards the crowd, "Go on."

Elizabeth laughed and gave her a hug, "Thank you."

"Be back before sunset," Andra called out to her before returning to her wares.

Elizabeth followed the current of people at a lazy pace. She had been to Tirsa many times before and she was always awed by its beauty and culture. Several dealers smiled at her and held up trinkets.

"My lady, I have a fine prize for you…"

"Would you like a brooch miss? Solid gold…"

"Finest Ralutian silk, worthy of a beauty like you…"

Elizabeth waved off their advances until she came to one particular merchant. He was a middle age man that moved the grace of men twice as young. His skin was as white as fresh cotton and he has long, pale yellow hair that hung down his back. Two pointy ear tips stuck out through his hair. When he saw her, his clear blue eyes brightened as he smiled.

"Hello, Elizabeth," he said.

"Hello, Nendir," she replied and pretended to pick through his wares.

The Elf pulled out a wooden box an opened it. Lying on a velvet nest was a silver necklace with a large emerald on the end. A host of diamonds circled the stone and silver leaves decorated the chain.

"It's gorgeous," she gasped.

"I thought you would like it," he said with a smile.

"You know I always love your work."

"Yes, you have the same eye for beauty like your father," Nendir said as he closed the box. "If it hadn't been for him, I would still be working in a shop, scraping up a measly existence."

Elizabeth stroked the sky blue velvet of a dress he had hung for sale. The mention of her father never failed to fill her with sadness.

"That would look lovely on you."

She turned and gave him a smile, "Yes, especially with my imaginary tiara and diamond ring."

Nendir laughed at her teasing words. "In all honesty, you would look more radiant in it than the duchess I made it for."

She gave the cloth one final stroke before turning back to him. "When I am a duchess, I'll buy a gown from you."

He smiled and nodded, "We have a deal."

The smile was returned to him but she knew their plan wasn't serious. Perhaps she would work for a duchess one day, but she could never afford even the smallest earring Nendir had for sale.

Horns and trumpets sounded from behind the wall and Elizabeth looked up to where the music came from. Cheers erupted from the crowd as the tournament began.

"I'll give you a leg up," Nendir said and cupped his hands together.

Elizabeth placed her foot in the bowl of his hands and he boosted her onto the roof of his stall. From there, she carefully hefted herself so her abdomen lay on the top of the stone wall. She swung her legs over until her body was free from of the stall. At last she was able to sit down and enjoy the tournament.

The crowd continued to applaud as the knights rode in on their proud steeds. Their armor glistened in the hot sun, blinding Elizabeth but she didn't care. Here was her spot of glory. On top of this wall, she was no longer a servant or an orphan. She was like a bird, free to go where ever she wanted and able to see the most beautiful sights.

The knights assembled themselves with their squires and hands. One by one they were called out by name, each one was followed by thunderous applause. After the last knight was announced, more trumpets sounded and she turned her head towards the pavilion. Underneath the blessed shade were two wooden thrones with purple velvet cushions to add more comfort. The crowd stood and faced those chairs. A man and a woman walked up to the canopy and stood before the crowd. With a gesture of their hands they smiled and bid the crowd to sit before they gathered their robes and also took their seats.

King Hector and Queen Sari were wonderful rulers. Elizabeth had never been concerned with them as a child but growing up as a servant showed her how spoiled the nobles were. However, she had seen the efforts Carida's monarchs had made to help the lower class and she was proud of their rulings.

Another man dressed in burnished armor appeared at the entrance leading to the arena. Elizabeth felt her heart race as she sat up straighter to get a better look at this anticipated rider.

The crowd leapt to their feet and cheered even louder than before. All the knights stood in attendance as the trumpets sounded once again. The armored man rode forward and waved to the throng of people. While they clapped and stomped their feet in excitement, he stopped in front of the pavilion and removed his helmet.

Even from far up on the wall, Elizabeth could hear the delighted sighs of the women close enough to see his face. It was impossible to hear what he said to the king and queen, but they beamed with approval and he rode on to his station.

The knights jousted for the sport of the crowd and Elizabeth enjoyed the scene. However, her focus was not so much on the joust, but on the prince.

This was the first time she had ever seen him in armor. Before when Tirsa had held festivals and other grand events, Prince John had sat with his parents and watched the proceedings. Of course this was her third time seeing him so perhaps this wasn't too surprising to most.

She was a good distance away, but Elizabeth could see how handsome he was. He had dark hair that spiked in an unusual, but appealing, fashion. His skin was bronze and, though it was impossible to see under the armor, word on the street said that he had a well built body.

His reputation also spoke of an amorous manner. Many called him Prince Charming because he easily succeeded in all of his conquest on women. Joceline spoke of his rakish ways often. Whenever she was in attendance at the same event he was, she took meticulous care in her appearance so she was as radiant—and provocative—as possible. Unfortunately, her measures never succeeded which always left Joceline in a temper. At those times Elizabeth wished the prince would notice the brat so she could stop picking up broken mirrors and mending torn dresses.

She always regretted those wishes. No man deserved Joceline, not even a criminal. Watching the prince like this was one of her few joys. This was the main reason for why she loved Tirsa so much. Here she could pretend she was sitting with the nobles dressed in silk in lace. On this sacred spot, she could imagine that she was the prince's love.

In her dreams he wore armor like he did now and came before her with his lance forward. She would tie her scarf to the tip as a token of her affection. After the jousting was over, he would gather her in his arms and carry her off to their own secret place. And then…

The dream ended. It was always lovely at first, but she could never imagine what the prince would do with her. A princess from some far of kingdom would live her fantasy. Elizabeth would be lucky if she married the chimney sweep.

Still, here her troubles melted away and she could stop carrying the burden of a much older woman. She could be her own age again and pretend like she actually belonged here. Only in Tirsa did she have the time dream about a man.

Near the end of the first half, Elizabeth noticed the prince checking over his horse before finally climbing on. One of his squires brought forth a lance and handed it to him. She gasped and brought her hands to her lips in surprise. The prince was going to joust!

The announcer stood on his platform again and Elizabeth strained to hear his words. "If any knight is willing, the prince urges you to joust with him."

A murmur wafted through the crowd. What knight would take the risk of injuring the prince?

From the wall, she saw many knights shake their heads. Apparently not one wished to joust with their liege.

Gasps erupted through the air as one man nudged his horse forward. Some people cheered, others protested, but the prince merely smiled.

Both readied their mounts and waited for the flags to be raised. Elizabeth clenched her fist so hard her nails bit into her palms. She nearly closed her eyes but she couldn't bear to turn away.

One quick motion from the flags sent the horses rearing towards one another. The prince and lord lowered their lances as the distance between them closed in. Everyone held their breaths as wood struck steal. Both men were pushed backwards towards their horse's rumps. They each managed to recover from the blows and stayed saddled.

A sigh of relief reached Elizabeth's ears and she also released the breath she had been holding.

The prince and his fellow rider returned to their aids. Each man had been given a point for hitting their mark accurately. Two more rounds to go.

They each accepted another lance and waited for the signal to charge. Elizabeth swallowed hard as the flag was raised but managed to keep her composure. They hit their mark again but still neither fell. It was now the final round which hit the views with both eagerness and dread.

Tension made the air as thick as clotted cream. From up on the wall, it looked like both men were moving in slow motion. With each pound of the horses' hooves, her heart skipped a beat. Wood cracked; a sound that seemed painful to her ears. One rider slipped free from his saddle and landed in the hoof-beaten mud. The prince.

For a moment sound didn't exist. Every eye was on the fallen prince. Even the lord wordlessly removed his helmet and stared at his victim in shock. Elizabeth bit her lip and tasted the sweet and salty flavor of blood.

The prince finally moved but no one cheered in relief. Assaulting royalty was a treasonous offense. If he wanted to, the prince could have the lord killed.

His armor now covered in mud, the prince walked towards the lord. He climbed down from his horse at the same time the prince removed his helmet. A pregnant pause stretched between them before finally the prince made a surprising motion.

He smiled.

The prince shook his opponents hand and the crowd erupted with applause. Even Elizabeth stood on her precarious position and clapped in good nature of the apprehensive joust.

* * *

Tirsa was buzzing with the news of the joust that by the time Elizabeth climbed down from the wall, Nendir had already heard the story from three different sources. 

"Had a bit of show, I hear," he said as he helped her down from the roof of his stall.

"It was the most exciting thing I've ever seen," she replied.

"Some have called the lord a fool for accepting the prince's challenge," Nendir informed her as he set out more jewelry displays.

"It was risky," she agreed as she lent him a hand, "but the prince seemed pleased."

Nendir smiled as his eyes caught two approaching figures. "I'll say, isn't that the prince?"

Elizabeth's eyes followed the direction his finger pointed. Just as he had said, the prince was walking towards Nendir's stall. Luckily, he was busy talking to the lord he jousted so they had yet to notice her. She raced into Nendir's cart and peeked out behind the velvet skirt of a gown.

"…the only good thing about Naldarian court was all the women," Prince John said as they reached Nendir.

"Greetings, your highness," Nendir said with a bow, "Might I show you my wares?"

"Yes, please," the prince replied.

This was the closest she had ever been to the prince and now she could see why women easily fell sway to his charms. His dark brown hair made her fingers ache to thread through it. His lips were perfectly formed and left a sensual spell over her. She now could see that the rumors were true, he did have a body of a god.

"What are you looking for in particular?" Nendir asked.

"A present for a woman."

The spell was broken and she felt her heart ache a little. She gave herself a mental slap on the cheek. Of course he would have a mistress, this was Prince Charming. Word said he had a string of women in Tirsa alone. She remembered hearing about a countess who broke into his private chambers and begged at his feet for him to show her favor again after he had found yet another eager victim.

"What about you, Ronon?" the prince asked, "Nendir's jewels guarantee no talk of commitment for a week."

"No thanks," Ronon replied in a somber tone.

Elizabeth viewed that he was handsome as well with long, brown hair and naturally dark skin. His body was much larger than the prince's, but he had a much more intimidating presence that would shy people away.

What interested her most was how familiar his name was. She pondered over it for several moments before giving up.

"Right, I heard about what happened," the prince said before handing Nendir a small bag of coins. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I'm fine, your highness."

The prince smiled and shook his head, "How many times do I have to tell you, friends call me John."

Prince John and Lord Ronon left Nendir then and everyone on the street watched them go. Elizabeth waited until they were swallowed up by the crowd before coming out of the cart.

"Your golden opportunity to meet the prince finally arrives and you duck down like a frightened child," Nendir said with a chuckle.

"I don't think the prince would see it as a golden opportunity," she replied.

"He wouldn't care, he probably wouldn't even…"

"Notice me," she finished for him, "Yes, I know. That is why I hid." Elizabeth stared at the crowd that the prince had disappeared into with a wistful gaze. "It's better to keep it as a fantasy."

"That's all you'll have if you don't step up," he advised.

"Nendir, look at me," she said and spread her tattered skirts wide, "Is this a satin gown sprinkled with sapphires?" She held out her hands for his inspection. "Are my hands soft like a dove's breast?" Elizabeth clutched her brown curls with her fingers. "Do I have perfumed oil in my hair that smells like roses and ambrosia?" She sighed and shook her head, "No, I don't because I'm not a princess. There is nothing to step up to."

She curled her lips in a small, sad smile before saying, "Andra is waiting for me; I better go."

"Come see me when you return to Tirsa," he told her before kissing her cheek.

"I promise," she swore and gave him a hug before racing into the throng of people.

Andra was haggling with a man over a bag of apples when Elizabeth arrived. The cook gave her a smile before returning to her stern look to argue with the customer. At last the man conceded and paid the price Andra had asked.

"I suppose it's time for us to leave now if we want to make it home before dark," Andra said.

"Yes, I'm sure my stepmother will be anxious for her dinner," Elizabeth agreed.

"That is true," she concurred. Andra began to scoop left over vegetables into a bag. "I heard about the joust. It must have been quite a scene."

"Yes it was," Elizabeth said as she loaded bags onto the wagon, "I was so scared that he would be hurt, but it all turned out alright."

"I'm sure the prince is of hardy stock," Andra assured her.

"He is very well built," she said absently and then winced once she realized what she had confessed.

Andra wasn't unperceptive and she couldn't help but smile. "Oh and how would you know that?"

Elizabeth turned around to face her with pink stained cheeks. "He came by to Nendir's stand after the tournament."

"So you finally met your prince," Andra said.

"Not exactly, he didn't see me because I hid."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I know he wouldn't care," Elizabeth explained and began to stuff squash into a bag, "I told this to Nendir that I'm not a noble or anything of value. The most I could ever be to the prince is a maid." She continued to toss the squash into the bag with a vengeance.

"Ella," Andra pulled the bag away from her and grabbed both of her hands, "I know you wish you could have the life your father had planned for you. This infatuation for the prince must not be easy."

"Andra, I don't care about the prince," she inserted.

The cook smiled a little and shook her head while tucking on of Elizabeth's curls behind her ears. "Why do you strive so hard to see him then?"

She sighed, "Okay, I know I'm a bit infatuated with him but I know better than to mistake it for anything else." She placed both of her hands on the table and stared at the dirty wood. "In fact, I don't think I'll look for the prince anymore."

"Ella…"

"No," she interrupted, "I need to stop these foolish fantasies. It just reminds me that I'm a servant and nothing more."

Andra sighed and forced her to meet her eyes, "Love, I hate that this life has been forced on you. I've always wanted to do more to help you, but I can't. Seeing your face when we come here is the brightest spot in my life because I know this is where you are happy."

"Andra, I can't keep fooling myself. He's probably a spoiled, arrogant man who cares for no one but himself."

"Yes, that is possible," she admitted, "but you will never know for sure. Ignorance is blissful sometimes, and this is one of those times."

Elizabeth dropped her eyes for a few moments in pondering. When she met her gaze again, a small smile curved on her lips. "You're right, I deserve a few moments of happiness."

Andra matched her smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now let's pack up and go home."

* * *

Weir Manor was not in prime shape. Age and neglect and turned this proud fortress into a withering stone edifice. Elizabeth stared sadly at her home as the wagon rolled up to and remembered how lovely it had once been. 

Ethan walked up to them at a slow pace. His arthritis pained him throughout the day and Andra saw his sluggish movements.

"I'll mix a poultice as soon as we unload this cart."

"The baroness wants you to fix dinner immediately," he informed them, "She told me to unload the wagon."

She sighed and laid the reins down on the seat of the wagon. "Alright," she turned to Elizabeth and said, "It's time to face the ogre."

Rodmilla was waiting for them with Joceline in the sitting room. Both of them set down their needlepoint and stood up when they entered.

"How did you do at the market?" the baroness asked.

Andra shook her head. "Not so well, my lady, our vegetables just aren't rich enough to meet standards."

"Well you'll have to work harder then for next harvest," Rodmilla said tightly.

"Yes ma'am," she murmured.

"Now, Elizabeth, is there any news from Tirsa?" Rodmilla asked as she took her seat once again.

"Not much, my lady," she said, "I did hear that the prince jousted in the tournament."

Joceline stopped midway through her embroidery and leapt to her feet. "What happened? Tell me everything."

"I can't say much because I didn't witness it," Elizabeth said, "All I know is that he challenged the knights and one accepted. I also heard he was unhorsed, but congratulated the lord for his victory."

"Hmm, that was noble of him," Rodmilla mused without looking up from her embroidery, "We must tell him that when we meet him again."

"Mistress," Andra stepped in, "I was wondering how Miss Teyla is doing."

"She stays in her room whenever we are about," the baroness said, "She still blames us for Lord Dex's betrayal."

Elizabeth let out a gasp when she heard the name Lord Dex. She remembered how the name Ronon had seemed familiar to her before and now it all came back. It had been Ronon Dex, Lord of Windhurst who had ruined Teyla and it was he who had accepted the prince's challenge.

"What is the matter with you?" Rodmilla demanded.

"I'm sorry, I just recalled something," she explained, "I saw the prince in the market."

"You simpleton! How could you not tell us?!" Joceline inquired in a furious tone.

"I didn't think it was important," Elizabeth said, "I saw him with Lord Dex. He was the lord who accepted the challenge. It looks like they might be…" she hesitated before saying, "friends."

There was a pause that filled every corner of the room before Rodmilla closed her eyes and sighed, "Well, that's that."

"It's ironic," a voice said from behind them. They turned around to see Teyla standing in the doorway. She looked terrible with unkempt hair and dark circles under her eyes.

"If you had just let me be," she continued, "If you hadn't interfered, you would be closer to the prince. Perhaps you would have finally caught his eye," she directed her stony glare to Joceline.

"Now you may have lost your chance," Teyla hammered the end of her truthful statement. Judging by Rodmilla's cold blue eyes she didn't like hearing the possible truth.

Teyla said no more and silently made her way out of the room.

"This doesn't change anything," Rodmilla assured her daughter, and silently herself, "Crius will marry Teyla, and that will bring us closer to the prince and our goal."

"I hope you're right mother," Joceline said, "I can't imagine how much worse things could get."

* * *

_Ominous words in any story, if you haven't noticed by now from the thousands of stories you have heard that any time someone says things can't get worse they definitely can. What are you grumbling about now? Oh you don't like the prince's name do you? Well I stand by what I said with the name Cinderella, what kind of parents would name their son Charming? Good you are silent again._

_What are you complaining about now? You don't think that the prince acts much like the prince in the story you've heard, after all he has a mistress. Well I've got news for you; Princes have mistresses, deal with it. Now will you let me get back to the story or do you want to complain some more?_

Elizabeth snuck a look out of the corner of her eye at Joceline and Rodmilla sitting on the lounge. Rodmilla was busy doing embroidery and Joceline was looking at some dress designs, as if they had money to burn.

She looked down at herself, her hands that were holding the scuttle were covered with black soot, so were her clothes and she was certain her face. No she wasn't going to pass for a lady any time soon.

Andra walked into the room and set the tea tray down, she turned to Elizabeth, "Ella would you mind helping me in the kitchen?"

Joceline perked up, "You call her Ella?"

"It is what my father would have called me," Elizabeth explained, "since Ellie is for children."

Joceline sneered, "Ella? You're covered in soot, Cinderella fits you better."

_I can think of a few names that suit you more than Joceline_ Elizabeth thought, but she didn't say a word, just stood up to go and help Andra into the kitchen. But the arrival of Teyla cut short any immediate plans.

_I know I'm interrupting but I need to say some important things about Teyla. You may have noticed by now that she isn't as bad like her mother and sister; she just hasn't spoken up about what they do to everyone. She's been under her mother's influence and is almost afraid to go against her, but if you haven't guessed a terrible wrong has happened to her and it has slowly boosted her courage to finally face them._

_She knows that what they really want is for her to marry Crius Donar, a man she detests, for the sake of Joceline. Now she knows a bit of information that she is certain will ruin any prospective marriage between her and anyone. All she'd been able to think about all day was seeing their faces when she told them the truth, she played one scenario then the next for what could happen, each one making her more giddy. _

_More than anything Teyla wanted to marry Ronon, but since that was no longer possible she would accept the next best thing; ruining all of Rodmilla and Joceline's plans._

"Mother, Joceline," Teyla said as she entered the room.

"Oh look who has decided to grace us with her presence," Rodmilla said, "are you finally done sulking or do you wish make some more accusations?

"I've come to accept the fact that nothing I do will take back what happened," Teyla told them her voice laced with sugar, "I can't win Ronon back and blaming you for it won't help me."

Rodmilla was surprised, "Well this is a marvelous improvement, and does this mean you will finally give Crius Donar some serious thought?"

"Well mother," Teyla began, "that's the problem, I won't be able to marry Crius…I have a feeling he won't accept me."

"Now don't be ridiculous," Rodmilla said, "he already has expressed an interest in you, he wishes to court you once the season is over."

"I don't think he is going to be courting me," Teyla told them with a smile on her face, "you see…I'm pregnant."

Elizabeth gasped and dropped the coal scuttle, Andra whispered, "Bless my word." Joceline burst into fake tears. Rodmilla turned as white as a sheet, "you cannot be serious."

Teyla smiled wider, "I've never been truer to my word; in a few months I'm going to have a child, Ronon's child." She turned to Joceline, "And since you made sure he thought I was the whore of Babylon, he won't believe or ever accept this child as his and marry me to make it legitimate, you made sure of that. No my child is going to be a bastard which makes me undesirable to any man," she smiled brightly at Rodmilla, "I'm sure Crius will be disappointed."

Rodmilla's eyes narrowed, "Why you wretched girl, how could you do this to me and your sister?"

"I don't know mother," Teyla feigned innocence, "how could you ruin your youngest daughter's life in a twisted game to make Joceline a princess?"

"You've ruined your life!" Rodmilla shouted at her.

"No mother you did," Teyla shouted back, "you and Joceline, and I am so glad that I've ruined your plans I just wish that I'd wizened up sooner!"

With that Teyla turned on her heel and stalked back up the stairs to her room. "Mother!" Joceline screeched, "What are we going to do?!"

Rodmilla didn't answer her mind was already working on damage control; she knew that there was a way to fix this problem. If there was one thing Rodmilla was it was crafty, she would find a way to make her plans follow through…perhaps this child could be used to her advantage.

* * *

The dreariness in the manor had increased tenfold. Rodmilla and Joceline were amazingly quiet for two days before that the baroness announced that she and her older daughter were leaving for Tirsa for the day and she expected the manor to be spotless when they returned. 

Elizabeth worked all morning scrubbing the cellar before finally coming up for air at luncheon. She walked into the kitchen covered with dirt and smelling like lye. She gave Andra a smile before walking to the water pump and pumping cool water on her red, chapped hands.

She lifted her skirt and sighed over her skinned knees. "Do we have any horsetail?"

Andra stopped arranging dishes on a tray and went to inspect her wounds. "I think so; I'll also get you some witch hazel."

"Thanks," Elizabeth replied and groaned with effort as she bent her stiff limbs to sit down on a stool.

Andra cleaned up her scrapes and applied the herbs before binding them with gauze. "There, now you're as right as rain."

"Is there anything you need me to do or can I take a break?"

"I have to watch this stew, could you take that tray up to Teyla for me?" Andra asked while dashing some salt into the pot.

Elizabeth frowned. "Why did you fix her a tray?"

"Because it's luncheon and she needs to eat."

"Then let her come down and get it herself."

Andra whirled around and placed her hands on her hips. "Elizabeth Driana Weir, I know your father raised you better than to say such things."

"Why are you taking her side?" Elizabeth demanded, "The second my father died they stuck me in attic and forced me to slave for them."

Andra sighed and shook her head. "Ella, give me one example when Teyla treated you like a servant."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but no thought appeared in her mind. Her face crinkled into a frown as she pondered over the endless amount of chores that had been dealt her way.

Wait, what about the time when…no that was Joceline. Didn't Teyla make her…no that was Rodmilla.

"See what I mean?" Andra inquired.

"Okay, she never made me do anything, but she also never did anything to help me," Elizabeth pointed.

"I know that, and I don't condone her silence," she replied, "but I do know that she has always looked at you with sympathy. You should do the same." Andra picked up a rag and began to wipe the table. "Teyla is going through a difficult time right now, if you don't treat her with kindness, then you are just like the baroness and Joceline."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and stared down at her raw hands. She had scrubbed, polished and scoured every inch of the manor. She had mended her stepfamily's clothes, combed their hair, heated their bathwater and cleaned their chamber pots. She had every reason to resent them but now she remembered a time when she was eight year old, just one month after her father died.

She had been told to scrub the immense front entry way by hand. It had taken her four hours and by the time she had finished her knuckles were bleeding and her back felt like it had been folded in half. Rodmilla had then ordered her to clean the ashes out of all the fireplaces in the house.

When she had gotten to Teyla's room her heart was nearly bursting out of her ribs. The staircase seemed like three miles long instead of just three stories. The room was bright and cheery with warm sunlight pouring through the rosy curtains. She was so tired and the bed looked so cozy and inviting that she decided to just lie down to catch her breath.

The next thing she knew her shoulder was being shook by her stepsister. "Mother wants you to help Andra with dinner," Teyla said.

Elizabeth blinked away her sleepiness and sat up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Hurry, before she finds you," she had urged her instead of yelling.

Elizabeth had quickly picked up her bucket and scuttle. It wasn't until halfway down the stairs that she realized her bucket was heavier than it should have been. She had emptied it before going into Teyla's room. In the bottom of the bucket was a bed of soft, grey ashes.

She wondered how she could have forgotten that one act of kindness. Then again, ten years of abuse and exhaustion could easily bury the actions of one stepsister. Elizabeth sighed and picked up the tray. "Do we have any chocolate hazelnut squares? Those are her favorites.  
Andra smiled and pointed to a wrapped package already on the tray. "I thought she would like them."

Elizabeth nodded and smiled back before leaving the kitchen.

Teyla was sitting near the window staring outside when Elizabeth walked into the room, "I brought you some food," Elizabeth told her, "Andra didn't think you would want to come downstairs."

"That's very kind of you," Teyla said with out turning to look at her, "but I'm not very hungry."

"You should eat," Elizabeth explained, "after all you're…"

"Pregnant?" Teyla finished, her gazed dropped from the window to her wringing hands; "It still doesn't seem real." She finally turned to look at her step sister, "You think I'm horrible don't you? I mean only wicked girls are supposed to have children out of wedlock."

"You're not horrible," Elizabeth told her, "You fell in love, that's a good thing."

"Is that any excuse?"

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, "but you seemed so happy when you told Rodmilla and Joceline."

"I was happy," Teyla explained, "happy to be able to tell them they'd failed completely but _this_ isn't what I wanted, none of it."

"Is there any way you could…" Elizabeth began, "I mean if you told him do you think that maybe…"

"He called me a whore and denounced me in public," Teyla told her, "I'm fairly certain that if I told him he was the father he wouldn't believe me, he'll think it was someone else's," a determined look came over her face and stared at a spot on the wall, "but I swear on my father's grave I was never unfaithful to him."

"I believe you," Elizabeth said, she smiled a little; "I always thought that Joceline would be the one that would get into trouble like this."

Teyla smiled, "She did, a year ago, but she simply got rid of it…I refuse to do that."

"I admire you for that," Elizabeth told her.

"Don't, I've never done anything that is worth your admiration."

"You never made me slave for you, that's good enough," Elizabeth reminded her, "when I was eight I fell asleep in your room; you cleaned your own fireplace and made sure I didn't get into trouble."

Teyla smiled, "I can't believe you remembered that."

"I didn't," Elizabeth admitted, "Andra helped me."

"Andra is very special," Teyla agreed, "much more so than she'll admit."

Elizabeth was confused, "What do you mean?"

Teyla shrugged, "It isn't important, I'm just sorry that I never had the courage to help you out more than I did…after all, you lost your father and I know what that is like."

Elizabeth was startled, she'd forgotten that Teyla's father had died, she'd always been focused on her mother, "You were close to your father?"

Teyla nodded, "Joceline has always been mother's favorite, and my father noticed that…he loved us both but he always gave me the attention I lacked…when he died I lost the one person who cared for me," Tears sparkled in Teyla's eyes, "and now it's happened again."

Elizabeth sat down next to Teyla, "Then we'll have to stick together, we're both alone," she smiled, "besides your child will love you."

"I guess your right," Teyla said wiping the tears from her cheeks, "and we should stick together…perhaps we can even be friends?"

Elizabeth smiled, "I would like nothing more."

TBC

* * *

A/N: Now they are friends next chap the baby is born and the adventure really begins. 


	3. Deception and Disaster

Disclaimer: I had a dream I owned Stargate, does that count? No, okay we own nothing.

A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: Sorry for the super long wait but here is a super long chapter. In fact it is the longest chapter we have ever written. I hope all of you enjoy it.

A/N Nerwen Aldarion: This chapter is the longest we have ever written, 31 pages on Word. I really enjoyed this chapter and I think all you Teyla/Ronon fans will get something out of it. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 2: Deception and Disaster

_Alright, I can see you're busting at the seams so tell me what's your problem? You say that Teyla's pregnancy isn't supposed to happen, that it's not in fairy tales. I told this before, THIS ISN'T A FAIRY TALE! Yes, they will have sex in this story; it's a natural part of life. It happens everyday somewhere in some part of the world. Deal with it. _

_The story is now going to shift away from the women and focus on the men. Yes, the prince and Lord Dex play a key role in this story. They will not remain the silent, nameless figures like you've heard before. Their friendship has developed and Ronon has received the title Duke of Glenwood. It has been eight months since where we left off and Prince John has received some interesting news…_

The forest was the picture of serenity. Its trees stretched up towards the heavens and birds nested in their branches. Lush green shrubs grew at the base of the trees. Foxes and rabbits hid inside these bushes. Flowers budded up through the leaves and added spots of color amongst the green and brown.

This environment was tarnished by the harsh sound of the trumpet and the baying of dogs. Branches crashed and tumbled onto the bed of dead leaves as horses and riders trampled their way through the forest. A stag raced ahead of them, his eyes white with terror as it desperately searched for a way out of his doomed fate.

Amidst the horde of dogs and horses, two riders fell behind and broke away from the group. They raced each other through the forest until they found a bubbling creek shaded by the trees.

Prince John smiled at his friend, "I told you I'd win."

"Only because you're horse isn't as tired."

"Sore loser," he teased back as he dismounted from his horse. Ronon followed suit and they both stood by the creek as their horses drank from its cool water.

"I should kill you," Ronon said.

"Why?"

"Lady Botsworth," he replied.

"What was wrong with her?" John asked.

"Her head was as empty as a vase."

"Her head wasn't the impressive thing about her," he explained with a knowing grin.

"I like my women to have some semblance of thought," Ronon said as he patted his horse's neck.

"I didn't think a brain was needed to have a good time," John replied as his smile grew.

"It isn't, but that amount of stupidity is a turn off."

"Alright, well I know another lady who will suit you," the prince offered.

"Send her my way then."

The two friends chuckled and stood beside the creek to watch it roll over the stones and fallen logs. John picked up a stone and flung it at the water. It skimmed over the surface twice before sinking to the bottom. Ronon picked up his own flat rock and tossed it as well. It skipped three times and he gave the prince a winning smile.

"I still won the race," John replied and picked up another stone.

"You seem a little distracted today," Ronon stated.

John twirled the rock in his fingers and studded its grey surface. "My father informed me of something yesterday."

"Anything important?"

"Pretty," John said vaguely and reeled back his arm, "I'm getting married."

The stone plunged into the water with a loud splash. Ronon blinked at his friend in surprise. "You're what?"

"The king kindly informed me that for the past eight months he has been negotiating with an extension of our lands into the northern Ralutian province. Part of the agreement is that I marry Princess Jastina in six months."

John picked up another rock and tossed it in. "I'm screwed."

Ronon shrugged, "You could kill yourself. It'd be quick and less painful."

"The idea is starting to look appealing," John admitted. He raked his fingers threw his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "What can I do about this? I don't even know this girl and my father expects me to roll over and marry her just so we can get a few more acres of forest."

"Well actually I think it's half a mountain range and several diamond mines."

John shot him a murderous look. "I met the princess three months ago, don't you remember her?"

Ronon thought for a moment before shuddering. "_That_ princess; the one with the pug nose and buck teeth?"

"Exactly, I can't marry someone who looks like an overgrown rabbit."

"Look on the bright side," Ronon told him, "you could call her bunny and she would think you are being affectionate."

"Stop trying to cheer me up."

Both men looked up as hoof beats thundered towards them. "They found us," Ronon said as the hunting party rode forward.

"Sire, you shouldn't have run off like that," one of the knights said.

"It's alright," he assured him, "We merely wanted a few moments to ourselves."

They mounted their horses again and followed the party back to the castle. All of court was waiting for them upon their arrival. John and Ronon smiled as a sea of skirts rushed towards them.

"Your highness, did you catch the stag?"

"I love that color on you, you're grace."

"You look sweaty, sire, here is my handkerchief."

John pushed away all of the little squares of lace that were shoved into his face but eight women chose to stuff them in his doublet. He and Ronon were finally able to break away and chose to retreat to the garden where it was quiet. Dusk was settling in and the sky was changing from a brilliant orange into a husky blue.

"You know," Ronon began, "Just because you're married doesn't mean you have to stop being…what do they call you; Prince Charming?"

John smiled, "I never said I was going to stop. I just don't want my life chosen for me."

"How are you going to stop it?"

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak with another voice interrupted him.

"Oh, your highness, I didn't expect to find you here," Baroness Rodmilla Emmagen said in a surprised voice as she came up from the Rose Walk with Joceline in tow.

"Baroness, a pleasure seeing you again," John said, "Lady Joceline, you look lovely this evening." He accepted her gloved hand so he could brush it with his lips.

Joceline flashed him a dazzling smile. "You are too kind, your majesty."

"Your grace," Rodmilla said to Ronon, "It has been a long time since we met."

"Yes, my lady."

"I heard of your elevation to duke two months ago," she said, "Joceline and I were overjoyed upon hearing it. I always said that you had the nobility of a duke."

Ronon gave her a tight smile. "Thank you, baroness."

"I trust your family is in perfect health," John said to Joceline.

"Oh yes," she replied, "Everyone is fine."

"Of course my youngest is still in the country," Rodmilla said, "but we just had to get away. We missed the excitement of court."

"Exactly," Joceline agreed while smiling at the prince, "Nothing exciting is ever happening at the manor."

* * *

"It will be alright M'lady, just relax once the pain goes away," Marta told Teyla as she wiped the sweat from Teyla's brow. Teyla winced as the contraction grew worse and clutched at the bed sheets in her attempt to stifle a scream. Her labor pains had started that morning and it was only now that the end was drawing near.

Elizabeth was running down the stairs for the umpteenth time to fetch more water that Andra was heating on the stove, "She has been in labor for sixteen hours, it can't last much longer can it?"

Andra sighed wearily, "You'd be surprised; your mother was in labor for over a day before you finally decided to enter the world."

Elizabeth groaned, "Why did you tell me that?!"

Andra smiled a little but then her face grew sad, "I can't believe the Baroness and Joceline are at court, they should be here."

"Are you kidding?" Elizabeth asked, "Letting that child come into the world with the devil's handmaidens in the same house would be the worst sin anyone could commit. I'm certain that Teyla wouldn't want to have it any other way."

"Hmmph, the devil's handmaidens?" Andra asked, "Surely they deserve more credit than that!"

Elizabeth laughed, she was checking the temperature of the water when Marta came rushing in, "Hurry both of you, the child's comin' and she wants both of you there!"

She grabbed the bucket of water spilling it all over herself but she didn't notice, she climbed the steps two at a time before she burst into Teyla's room with Andra and Marta at her heels. "Teyla are you alright?"

Teyla glared at her, "Do I look alright?!"

"It will be fine, love, just a little longer and everything will be over," Andra said.

"I want it to be over now, I'm in pain now!"

Elizabeth turned to Andra, "Is there anything we can do to ease her pain."

"I'm afraid not," she told her, "it is the price women pay to bring children into the world."

"If this is some sort of punishment for giving myself away before marriage, I promise you I've learned my lesson," Teyla told them.

"Teyla," Andra said forcing her to look at her, "you need to calm down because it is time for you to push."

Teyla nodded, "Alright…alright, I can do this," she sat up taking a deep breath before pushing, she gritted her teeth and groaned, "This is worse!"

"You can't give up dearie, you have to keep trying."

"You try!" Teyla snapped and then winced, "I'm sorry, I'll try again."

A half an hour later Teyla let out a scream that was then mingled with the sound of a baby's cry, "You have a boy, a beautiful healthy boy with a good set of lungs," Andra told her.

Teyla smiled as tears sparkled in her eyes, "Tughan," she told them, "I want to name him Tughan, after my father."

Andra smiled, "That sounds wonderful."

Teyla sighed and leaned back against the pillow, she closed her eyes letting the tears spill against her cheeks. A moment later her breathing evened out and she fell into a deep sleep.

"Poor dear," Andra said to Elizabeth, "she's tired out."

"She has the right to be tired," Elizabeth remarked.

Young Tughan was still wailing from being taken from his mother's warm nest. Marta had wrapped him in a towel and she now handed him to Andra. A bowl of warm water was resting on a table along with rags and gentle soap. Andra dipped a rag into the water and rubbed it with soap. She gently wiped one of the baby's arms with the rag to clean off the fluids.

"You are an adorable little boy," she cooed, making Elizabeth smile.

"He is cute," she agreed and then sighed, "It's not fair that everyone will judge him just because he is illegitimate." She stoked the tuft of dark brown hair on his head. "They'll call him a bastard without seeing how beautiful he is."

"It's up to his father to fix that," Andra said and she wiped the tears from the baby's cheeks with her rag.

"Lord Dex wouldn't do it. Teyla said he would never believe that this is his son."

"If that is the case then there is nothing we can do," Andra replied, "Other people have survived the judgment of others because no fathers claimed them. This little one will have to do just that."

She removed Tughan from his towel and replaced it with a clean, fuzzy blanket. His cries had turned into soft whimpers and he gazed at Andra with wondering blue-green eyes. Andra smiled at him. "You know, you barely made legitimacy yourself."

Elizabeth frowned, "What?"

"Your mother had a hot temper and she would get into awful rows with your father." Andra laughed as she remembered. "She broke the engagement three times before your father nearly dragged her down the altar. You were born six months after their wedding."

Elizabeth chuckled, "I never knew that."

"Yes, well your father thought it best you didn't know about their…unorthodox engagement."

"Why not?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"He didn't want you getting any ideas," Andra explained with a teasing smile.

Elizabeth also smiled and walked over to stand beside her. "Can I hold him?"

Andra nodded and gently passed over the now silent baby. Tughan didn't make any protest during the transfer. He was at peace now. Elizabeth smiled as she saw his eyes slowly droop.

"I wonder if I'll ever have one of these," she remarked.

"Of course you will," Andra said, "And he'll be as handsome as this lad."

"I'll have to find the father first," Elizabeth said as she walked over to stare at the night sky with the baby in her arms. In the distance she could see Tirsa with the grey castle presiding above it like a watchful mother. "And I have no idea who he'll be."

* * *

_Again I am skipping so we can move ahead with the plot line. Three months have passed and Teyla adores her little boy. Taking care of another life took her mind off of Ronon and his betrayal. Rodmilla and Joceline have been in mourning upon hearing that the prince was to marry but they are also scheming to try and ruin the king's plans. However, schemes cost money and the baroness squandered what Henry Weir left her long ago. She will have to resort to drastic measures to obtain a few extra coins; measures that her servants will not agree to…_

The weather outside Weir Manor was grey. The air spat out a delicate mist that made Elizabeth's curls even more unruly. Her skin was covered with moisture and the mist made it hard for her to keep her grip on the ax. She swung the tool down and listened to the crack of the wood as it embedded itself into the cylinder log.

It split in two, and she bent with effort to pick up the clean halves. She placed them in the pile growing beside her and picked up the last column of wood. Elizabeth hefted the ax again. She grunted with relief when it broke in two. She covered the freshly cut wood with a tarp and then gathered an armful to take inside.

Marta was busy polishing the silver platters adorning the mantelpiece in the sitting room. Elizabeth gave her a smile and placed two logs in the cold fireplace.

"Where is Ethan?" Elizabeth asked as she piled the remaining logs beside the hearth.

"I'm not entirely sure," Marta replied. She placed the platter back in its stand and sighed. "I'm afraid his age is making it harder for him to serve the baroness. She has been complaining a lot about his slowness."

"Well she can barely afford to keep this manor afloat with the four of us, I doubt she'll get rid of him," Elizabeth assured her.

A sharp rap on the door made both women jump. Marta and Elizabeth walked over to the door. Through the window, they could see three men dressed in a somber brown with flapping black cloaks that spread out like a demon's wings. A sick feeling twisted in Elizabeth's stomach as Marta opened the door.

"Can we help you?"

"We are here to speak with Baroness Rodmilla Emmagen," the man closest to the door said.

"May I ask why?"

"We are here to pick up an Ethan Danby; he owes a debt to one Crius Donar."

Marta's face went milk white. Her mouth dropped open and she stared in shock at the three men before her. Her eyes saw the canvas covered wagon that would carry her husband away from her.

Elizabeth pushed in front and Marta and shook her head. "I won't let you do this," she said.

"You can't stop us," he replied, "We have the writ here." A parchment was shoved into her face stamped with a judge's seal.

"I won't let you in," Elizabeth stated with an iron force behind her words.

"You don't have to let us," he assured her before signaling for his men to step forward. Elizabeth struggled to close the door but the amount of strength behind all three men forced the door open. Elizabeth grabbed the leader's cloak and tugged with all her might. He whirled around and struck her across the face.

The world spun around her as she fell to the floor. Pain flowered in her cheek and then a boot kicked her in the stomach to roll her out of the way. Marta was still in shock and did nothing to help her. Instead she simply watched as the men searched for Ethan.

Andra heard the commotion and came from the kitchen. She saw Elizabeth half-lying on the floor clutching her throbbing cheek and bent down to help her to her feet. Teyla came from behind the cook holding Tughan in her arms. Rodmilla and Joceline walked down the stairs with elegant grace. The leader of the debtor's force nodded in greeting to her.

"My lady," he said.

"Mr. Portman, I'm glad to see you have come to collect this vermin from my household."

A scuffle was heard in the back of the manor. "Get your hands off me!" Ethan shouted but he was dragged forward by the two men with Portman.

Upon seeing her husband Marta fell out of her trance and rushed over to Ethan. "Let him go, you brutes!" she cried and beat at the men with her fists.

Portman grabbed her by her shoulders but she continued to struggle. "Marta,"  
Ethan said, "Marta, please stop. This won't help me."

"Oh Ethan," she whimpered.

"I'll be back soon," he assured her, "This is all just a misunderstanding."

Portman released Marta as soon as Ethan was outside the door. He walked over and gave Rodmilla a bag filled with coins, "As promised, one hundred silver donars."

"Thank you Mr. Portman."

Marta watched as they loaded Ethan onto the wagon and then raced outside. Rain was falling by the bucketful now and it pelted Marta's grey streaked hair until it was limp and wet. Elizabeth and Andra ran after her in fear she would follow Ethan. Instead she watched as the cart pulled away, its wheels caked with mud. Ethan stared out from the back of the wagon at his wife and friends. He tried to give them a smile but it wouldn't come.

Tears fell from Marta's brown eyes and mingled with the rain on her cheeks. Andra placed an arm around her shoulders and helped her back towards the manor. Rodmilla was in the parlor with Joceline now and they were counting the purse full of coins.

"Now we have enough to buy you a gown that will surely capture the prince's eye."

"Mother, how could you do this?!" Teyla demanded to know.

"We needed money," she explained, "The prince is to marry in three months; we don't have any time to lose."

"Ethan did nothing wrong," Elizabeth said, "How could you send an innocent man to debtors prison?"

Rodmilla eyed her with a cold look. "Would you like to replace him? I'm certain I could call them back and ship you off instead."

Elizabeth and Teyla were silent. Neither of them could help Ethan if they were also locked away.

"I thought so," Rodmilla said before turning back to the dress patterns, "That color would look lovely on you," she remarked to Joceline.

Elizabeth and Teyla turned away with defeat in their eyes. The kitchen was empty when they entered. "Andra must have brought Marta to her room," Elizabeth said.

Teyla sat down on a stool and brushed her son's cheeks with her fingertips. "If someone took my son away from me, I don't think I could live. Marta must feel that way now."

Elizabeth pulled out a bottle of witch hazel and spilled some on a rag. She held the rag up to her swollen cheek. "We can't just abandon Ethan, we have to do something."

"Any ideas?"

Elizabeth shook her head sadly.

Teyla sighed and clutched Tughan tighter to her chest. "We'll think of something. I'm sure of it."

* * *

Night blanketed Tirsa and torches glowed like fireflies around the castle. Guards dressed in blue uniforms protected the castle from any outside influence. Up in one of the higher floors of the castle the window was lit up from the inside.

Candles kept the darkness at bay in the royal bedchamber of the king and queen. One might be surprised that the king and queen would share a room but since their marriage Hector and Sari had rarely spent a night apart.

"Things have been quiet for the past couple of days," Sari mused as she brushed her auburn hair.

Hector looked up from his manuscript and nodded. "Yes, I think our son has accepted the idea of marrying Jastina."

Sari stopped in mid-brush and turned to face her husband. "That isn't like John to just give up."

"Perhaps he's finally grown out of his stubbornness."

She let out a delicate snort, "You never did."

Hector put down the document and frowned at his wife. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Like father, like son," she explained with a smile, "John got more than just his handsome looks from you."

"I'm not nearly as stubborn as that boy," the king declared.

"Who snuck aboard a merchant ship at thirteen when his father refused to let him be a pirate?"

Hector glared at his wife. "I never sailed."

"Only because you got seasick the moment you stepped on board."

He glowered at her for bringing up his foolish past but smiled at the memory. Sari climbed in beside her husband and gave him a loving kiss on the cheek. "I'd rest well, Hector, I have a feeling our son is up to something."

"Nonsense," Hector said as he blew out the candle, "John knows there is no way out. He has resigned himself to the marriage."

_0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

On the east wing of the castle a head peeked out from the window and watched as the guards walked by. Once they had disappeared around the corner and length of material dropped down until it swung a foot above the ground.

John tied the makeshift rope to the foot of his bed. A sack of coins and a sword was waiting by the window. He grabbed them both and attached them to his belt before making his descent. He knew better than to look down, but beads of sweat still formed on his forehead, both from the exertion and from the fact that one slip and he was a broken carcass that used to be a prince.

At last he touched the ground and stared triumphantly at his victory. Sure the knotted sheets weren't an original idea but it had been effective. He brushed the snags out of his plain, sturdy clothing and pulled the black cloak closer around. As he slipped off toward the main gate, he realized that this was stupidest thing he had ever done. He was a man now, not a boy. This was something an adolescent did for kicks, not a prince. But he knew he was out of options.

There was no way he was going to succumb to a marriage to a woman he barely knew and would never be happy with. Yes, this was the only option. Sure it wasn't an ideal one, but what the heck. It might be fun.

* * *

The cock of the rooster roused Elizabeth from her sleep. She pushed the scratchy blanket off her body and reluctantly sat up. She blinked the restless sleep from her eyes. Every night she fell into an exhausted sleep but she always awoke far too soon for her to be fully recharged.

Her limbs were still stiff as she pulled her work dress over her shift. She pulled out a raggedy piece of ribbon and wrapped it around her hair. A few errant strands refused to hold and straggled free around her face. There was no mirror here in her attic room but she knew that she must look terrible. Dark circles must ring her eyes and her face was smudged with cinders. Joceline was right, Cinderella suited her better.

The sun was about to peek into the horizon when Elizabeth walked downstairs. Andra was in the kitchen brewing a cup of hot tea. She gave Elizabeth a drowsy smile, "Would you like a cup, Ella?"

"No thank you, I need to feed the horses."

"You really should eat something first," Andra advised, "You deserve food more than those horses."

Elizabeth looked down at the waist she could practically wrap around with her hands. Years of labor and denied suppers for punishment had left her looking scrawny, she was sure.

"I'll eat something when I get back," she promised as walked out the door. She went to the store house and doled out a bucket of oats. The air was nippy so she hurried along to stable to keep the chill off of her bones.

She heard one of the horses let out a snort as she got near. A scuffling sound stopped her in her tracks and she strained her ears to listen. Someone was saddling one of the horses!

Elizabeth set the heavy bucket down on the dew covered grass. She crept up to the stable door and looked in through the crack. It was a tall man wearing plain but well made clothes. A black cloak flowed down his back and brushed his ankles. Her eyes sought out a weapon but none were near enough for her to take hand.

When he turned around Elizabeth had to stifle a gasp. The prince was climbing onto the saddle of the brown gelding. What was he doing here? Had he gotten lost while hunting and needed a new horse?

She stood there dumfounded for several seconds before racing to the side of the stable where the double doors lay open. She hid behind three barrels of maple syrup and watched as he kicked the horse into a canter.

The prince rode off into the forest in the opposite direction of Tirsa. That ruled out her hunting idea. She watched as both rider and horse disappeared into the foliage.

Elizabeth forgot about the lonely mare still in the stable as well as the bucket of oats. She raced through the yard and threw open the door to the kitchen. "The prince just stole one of our horses!"

Andra had been pouring oil into a batter for biscuits. The oil spilled free from the bowl and pooled on the table, but neither woman noticed. She eyed Elizabeth with surprise and doubt. "Ella, what do you mean the prince stole one of the horses?"

"He was in the stables and I saw him take the gelding."

Andra picked up a rag and wiped up the spilled oil. "Are you sure you weren't just imagining things."

Elizabeth tugged at her sleeve. "Come see for yourself."

Andra sighed and let go of her rag. She followed Elizabeth through the yard and into the stables. Her eyes rounded at the sight of the empty stall. "Oh my word!"

"I know."

"Why on earth would the prince want to steal one of our horses?"

"I don't know," she replied. Her gaze found a window with white lace curtains: the baroness's rooms. "Should we tell my stepmother?"

"She'll be absolutely delighted," Andra said in a stoic tone, "This way she can search out the prince and shove Joceline into his arms."

Elizabeth ducked her face down so her eyes were on the straw covered floor. "That is true."

A smile covered Andra's face as an idea occurred to her. "Of course, the prince probably didn't want anyone to know of his thievery. We could consider it our duty _not_ to tell anyone."

Elizabeth looked up and smiled in reply before closing the stable door.

* * *

Teyla came down the stairs to find Elizabeth and Andra in the kitchen working on breakfast, she looked around for her third friend but she was no where to be found, "Where's Marta, mother will be upset if she doesn't show up soon?"

"We're covering for her," Andra explained, "Marta is indisposed."

"What happened?" Teyla asked her fear showing in her voice.

Elizabeth looked at her sadly, "She got the news early this morning, Ethan has been sold to slave holder in Sartuga."

_I should probably mention that Sartuga is another kingdom across the sea, it is known for its beautiful coastlines, delicious foods and the horrible way they treat their slaves. To be sold to a slaver on Sartuga means being sold to a place that is likened to hell. It makes sense why Marta is upset doesn't it?_

Teyla received the news of Ethan's sale with a heavy heart; these four servants were the closest thing she had to a loving family and losing any of them made her heart break. But Teyla had been keeping something from them, but desperate times called for the breaking of promises.

"I think I know a way to save Ethan," Teyla told the two women.

Elizabeth and Andra both spun around in shock, "How?!" they asked at the same time.

"Come with me," Teyla said grabbing Elizabeth's hand, she led her stepsister up the stairs leaving Andra to finish breakfast but Andra knew she would be filled in soon.

Teyla took Elizabeth to her room and sat down on the floor, "My mother isn't very frugal with money…"

"I can see that by just looking at what she did to my father's fortune," Elizabeth reminded her, smiling a little.

Teyla nodded, "Well my father knew that, but unlike your father, he knew her long enough to predict that she would spend it all quickly and that my sister was no better. He would have liked to find a way around letting her inherit his fortune, but since she was his wife there was nothing he could do…" Teyla pulled up one of her floorboards, "except this."

She pulled out a plain box; Elizabeth peered into the gap of the floor to see three more boxes there. Teyla opened it to reveal that it was filled with gold coins, "He left me this small amount, enough to last me for a long time if I was thrifty, he knew I would be wise, but he also made me swear to never tell a soul about the money, especially my mother." Teyla explained, "I promised him which is why I didn't tell you about this money before."

"I understand," Elizabeth told her reassuringly.

Teyla continued, "Since mother refuses to give me money for Tughan this is how I pay for the things he needs and this is how we can save Ethan."

Elizabeth saw where she was going, "No Teyla, we won't use your money to save Ethan, we would never ask that of you."

"And you aren't asking me," Teyla said, "_I'm_ asking _you_ to do this for Marta, for you and everyone else that loves Ethan, I have more than enough for my son and this is important for me…all of you are important for me."

Teyla dropped the money into Elizabeth's reluctant hand before wrapping her in a hug, "you know that you have to be the one that gets Ethan right?"

Elizabeth didn't expect _that_. "What do you mean? I can't go to court with that much money. I would be thrown in prison with Ethan."

"I can't go to court," Teyla explained, "everyone knows who I am and word would get back to mother and she would want to know where I got the money from."

"Not necessarily," Elizabeth said and saw the doubtful look on her face, "you're right it would, but why does it have to be me?"

"They don't know you; we need a stranger, people fear and respect strangers at the same time. They can't doubt what you tell them and none will be the wiser," Teyla continued, "we can't use Andra and Marta, they are too old and don't speak fine enough to pass as a courtier, you on the other hand have an education, are young and vibrant, one look and people will assume you belong…" Teyla smiled, "remember this is for Ethan."

Elizabeth sighed, "Do I have to wear a corset?"

* * *

Ronon stood by his horse and observed the trail of hoof prints leading away from Weir Manor. The dogs sniffed the surrounding area and whined towards the direction he looked at. "He went that way," Ronon pointed.

"Perhaps we should ask the baroness if she saw the prince," one of the knights asked.

He swiftly shook his head. "The longer we wait, the farther away he gets."

He inwardly sighed of relief when no one questioned his advice. There was no way in Hell that he was going into that manor anytime soon. The horse began to gallop after the dogs, and Ronon shook his head in disbelief. Of all the stupid things John could have done, stealing a horse from Rodmilla Emmagen's estate.

The king might see running away as the more intolerable sin, but Ronon found that entirely forgivable.

_0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

John knew his father had sent men to pursue him. He was doing the best he could to stay in the dense region of the forest but the undergrowth was becoming too thick for his horse to plow through. The distant barking of dogs reached his ears and he let out a curse. He tried to kick the horse into going faster but the animal knew better than to listen to him.

The horse continued at its normal gait and there was nothing he could do about it. However, shouts for help reached his ears and John turned his head to see a covered wagon. Four reptilians called Trolls, each the size of a horse, were bombarding the coach. A fifth one was gorging himself on the bloody carcass of a horse. These creatures were hideous with two horns sprouting on both sides of their heads. Talons grew from their fingers and pale yellow teeth snarled at the two bystanders trying to hide inside the flimsy walls of the wagon.

_Oh dear, you're rolling your eyes. What is the matter now? Trolls shouldn't be in the fairy tale, why not? It goes with the fairies and magic, they did exist at one point. Here is a quick history lesson for you. In the time where Carida existed there were monstrous beasts that plagued the people. These included trolls or their scientific name _Varanus Trollikus_, as well as Gryphons, and Dragons. While Dragons are the worst they were rare and spent most of their time in the mountains. The beings that tortured Carida the most were Ogres._

_Yes, I said Ogres. If you say the word Shrek I will have to kill you. Ogres are not big green monsters that live like recluses in swamps. They are hideous, furry, giant beasts who kill the Caridans' livestock, destroy their homes, rape their women and eat the people after they have done all of this. Lovely bunch don't you think? Now back to the story._

Two options lay before John; he could continue on his way and leave them to die, but escape from his pursuers. The second choice was to help them, possibly get himself killed or sent home to his father.

His eyes drifted to the sanctuary of the forest but another cry for help made him steer his horse towards the wagon. He would be caught, but it'd still be fun.

Slowly, he got off his horse and pulled out his sword. He let out a shrill whistle that made all the trolls turn their enormous heads to face him. "Pick on some one your own size," he told them.

The trolls had no idea what he was saying but they knew what he was; lunch.

Two came at him immediately, the other three chose to wait for their brothers to kill him and then feast on his flesh. John was ready when they attacked. His sword flashed like lightening when it sliced into the thick hide of one troll.

The troll let out a garbled cry as red blood oozed from his throat. He swayed on his stout feet before falling over on his side. His brother's black eyes turned red. He let out an earsplitting roar and charged towards the prince.

John skirted to the side and let the troll race past him. The troll had too much inertia and no way to stop himself. He caught an eyeful of a tree trunk before he crashed into it.

With one troll dead and the other out cold, the three remaining allowed their anger to boil inside. All six eyes turned red and focused on John. "Oh crap," he swore under his breath before diving into the wagon.

When he leapt in, the younger man inside let out a yelp of surprise. "Hi, how you doing?"

"Well we have seen better days," the man close to John's age replied. The wagon lurched to the side and pitched them all to the left.

"The trolls are trying to flip us," John said.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

"Calm yourself, Rodney," the old man replied to the younger's sardonic words. "This man is trying to help us."

"He isn't doing a very good job."

"Would you like to take over?" John asked, "I sure would appreciate the distraction while they ate you."

Rodney was immediately silent.

The wagon rocked again but this time it stood up on its left wheels before sinking back on all four.

"All right," John said as he scanned his surroundings, "Is there anything in here that can help us?

"Try this," the old man handed him a leather ball with a string trailing out of it.

John stared at the lumpy object with disbelief. "Uh, thanks but I don't really feel like playing."

"Light the string," he explained as he pulled out some flint, "Then throw it at the trolls."

_This guy is nuts_, John thought to himself but he was out of options. He accepted the ball and struck the flint over the string. A white spark hissed and got hold of the string. It began to chase its way towards the ball.

"Throw it!" Rodney yelled.

John leapt from the wagon and hefted it towards the trolls as they prepared another charge at the wagon.

"I would get back in the wagon if I were you, young man," the old man said.

"What's the…" the explosion sent John off of his heels and onto the mud. Tree branches were ripped from their mothers and fell to the earth. Two of the three remaining trolls were dead and the other fast approaching. The troll that had been unconscious before was revived. He stared at the burned corpses of his brethren and chose to flee before he met their same fate.

John sat up and stared at the blackened trees that still crackled with fire. "Whoa," he whispered.

The old man stepped free from the carriage and smiled at his work. "I see I timed it just right."

"What the hell was that?" John asked as he climbed to his feet, "You just blew up the trolls!"

"Merely a mixture of powders I received from China," he said, "Very expensive but not as lethal as it can be. I added a few things myself to make it a bit more potent."

"Excellent work, master," Rodney said as he surveyed the damage. "I knew we didn't need this ruffian's help."

"Excuse me?" John demanded, "I was saving your asses before grandpa gave me his ball of tricks."

"Then what were you doing in the wagon?"

"Bidding my time," he replied smoothly, "What about you?"

Rodney had no choice but to shut his mouth and glower. "You must forgive my apprentice," the old man apologized, "He has a nervous personality and is constantly trying to prove his bravery."

"What bravery?" John asked.

"I resent that!" Rodney protested.

"Relax, I was just teasing," John assured him. "What brings you here, old timer?" he asked the old man.

"I am Faeron Gost, master sorcerer from Naldar. This is my apprentice Rodney McKay."

"A sorcerer," John reflected with surprise, "I've never met one before. Were you at the Naldarian court?"

"For a time," he said, "I left a few days after you arrived, your highness."

"Highness?" Rodney asked as the same time John winced.

"You know," he stated.

Faeron nodded, "You carry the burden of a prince."

"Prince!" Rodney exclaimed and pointed a finger at John, "He's a prince!"

"Prince John of Carida," John informed them. The pounding of hoofs trampling through the forest reached his ears and he let out a sigh. "Who is about to be captured."

There was no point in running. Even if he reached his horse they would have surrounded him before he climbed into the saddle. He just stood beside the two sorcerers and waited for them to bear down upon him.

Ronon was the first one to stop. He shook his head at his friend, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That it was time for me to scale walls like normal princes," John replied with a smile.

"Sire," one soldier rode forward, "thank God we found you. We have orders to take you back to the king at once."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," John said as he climbed onto his stolen horse. "This is Master sorcerer Faeron Gost and his apprentice. We are going to give them safe passage to Tirsa."

"Of course, sire."

Faeron smiled, "Thank you for your kindness, good prince."

"Don't sweat it." John pulled along side of Ronon on his horse and noticed the glower still on his friend's face. "What?"

"You never answered my question."

"I just had to do something;" John replied truthfully, "Running away seemed like the only option left."

"That's not what I meant. What the hell were you thinking stealing from Baroness Emmagen's house?!"

* * *

Elizabeth was immersed in a sea of velvet, silk and fur. She was dizzy from staring at all the dresses in Nendir's store. They were blues that matched the sky, greens the color of fresh grass, reds as fierce as the setting sun and yellows as soft as a newborn chick.

She closed her eyes to stop the kaleidoscope of colors. Slowly she shook her head. "No, forget about this. Let's just wait until nightfall and then break Ethan out of prison. It's less stressful and far more heroic."

Teyla rolled her eyes, "And far easier for us to get caught."

"Teyla, I can't do this," she stated, "I can't dress up like a noblewoman. It's like trying to make a pebble look like a diamond."

"I assure you, Elizabeth, you will shine brighter than any diamond," Nendir said.

Teyla sat own beside Elizabeth on a cushion of a red velvet dress. "Elizabeth, you know this is the best way to save Ethan; it's the safest way…"

"It's the only way," Elizabeth finished for her.

Nendir knelt down beside her and gave her a smile. "You once told me that when you were a duchess you would buy one of my gowns. Today, you are a duchess."

Elizabeth sighed and closed her eyes. "Alright, turn this pebble into a diamond."

Nendir smiled and accepted her hand to pull her to her feet. "I think this one would suit you perfectly."

He held up a pale green dress, the color of a baby leaf. It was made of gossamer silk with gold embroidered ivy on the skirt. Pearls studded the skirt and trimmed the décolletage.

Elizabeth gingerly took the dress from his hands and walked behind the dress screen. She stripped out of her work clothes and slid into the soft silk. The gentle touch of the silk was alien to her limbs. She hadn't worn a dress this fine for ten years. The last time she had really dressed up was for her seventh birthday, the last one she had shared with her father. Thinking back, she couldn't even remember what the dress had looked like.

She ran her fingers down the skirt and noticed the valley of her breasts showing from the neckline. "Dear God, I look like Joceline!"

Nendir laughed. "That's the style, dear, the lower the better."

"How do you look?" Teyla inquired.

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied, "I'm coming out, please don't laugh too hard."

She stepped away from her shelter with deliberate slowness. Once she was in full view both Nendir and Teyla stared at her in disbelief. The shock on their faces made her heart sink. "It's awful, isn't it?"

"Never have I seen you look more beautiful," Nendir replied, "That gown was made for you."

"You're not serious," Elizabeth said.

"Look in the mirror," Teyla said, "you look like a princess."

Elizabeth turned around and did as she was bid. It was the first time in years that she had looked at herself in the mirror. Except for the occasional wavy reflection in the pond she would have never seen her face at all. The pale green made her eyes stand out and was the first thing she noticed. They were a deep, forest green like Andra had said her mother's were.

She had washed her face before coming her so she could tell that her skin golden from the years of toil outside of her manor. Her hair was unkempt but looked like she had primped it that way. It fell in long, chocolate brown curls just past her shoulders. She looked at herself with a critical eye but she could indeed see the hints of beauty her friends had spoken of.

"That can't be me," she said with a voice full of awe. No, she was supposed to be a stick with limp brown hair and dull green eyes. Joceline and Rodmilla had always laughed at her pitiful state while combing their raven locks with their white fingers.

"It is you," Nendir assured her.

Was it possible that she had grown into a beauty? Had the years of hard labor not robbed her of her mother's looks? Indeed, some men in town had lavished her with flattery but she had assumed they only wanted her hand because of her work ethic. Could it be that they their rain of compliments were in fact because she was beautiful?

Nendir smiled and touched Elizabeth's shoulder. "You're not finished yet. We still have a little more work to do before your debut."

With the help of Nendir's wife, Alis, and Teyla's direction, they forced her to take off the dress she now wanted to be buried in and dumped her into a steaming bathtub. With combined effort, the two women scrubbed the years of cinders and grime from her skin. Once she sparkled with cleanliness Alis combed all the snarls out of her hair and weaved it into an elegant gold coiffure.

Nendir offered her some of his jewels but Elizabeth refused. The coiffure and gown were enough. Teyla agreed with her on the basis that no lady would want to wear expensive jewelry in front of debtors and thieves.

At last she was complete. Nendir waved down a passing hack and helped her inside. "I'll meet you back here once I have Ethan," Elizabeth said.

"Here is some extra money to hire another hack," Nendir said, giving her a small purse.

"No, I couldn't…"

"You must," he inserted, "No court woman would travel on foot."

She nodded reluctantly and accepted the purse. Elizabeth took a deep breath and then whispered to Teyla, "I'm scared."

"So am I," she confessed, "But it will work. God aids those who do good works."

It was a small comfort but Elizabeth forced her fluttering stomach to accept. She waved them all good bye and instructed the driver to the Tirsa Square, just outside the royal palace.

With every turn of the carriage wheels, with every clop of the horse's hooves on the cobblestones, Elizabeth's heart picked up it's pace. When the hack stopped she thought she just might faint. _Be strong_, she instructed herself,_ Be the daughter your father raised_.

The driver opened the door and helped her down. Her eyes found a sea of elegantly dressed people, wealthy merchants, brightly dressed animal trainers and studious artists who were busy painting the palace or portraits of the people. It was all so amazing and breathtaking. She felt like she could stand there forever, just watching the nobles go by. However, her eyes found something that tarnished the beauty around her.

A rickety, wooden wagon was enclosed with wooden bars on all sides. Men were being loaded up into the wagon with their wrists and ankles bound with chains. She saw a hefty warden gleefully shoving an old man into the wagon, making him fall to his knees onto the wagon bed and disappearing from her view.

It was Ethan.

Her heart grieved for his pain for only a moment. Seeing him being treated worse then a dog built up her resolve and made all the butterflies die inside her stomach. She clutched the purse weighted with Teyla's money and picked up her skirt. She ran with all the speed of a young colt and stopped in front of the wagon, carrying the debtors.

"Stop!" she ordered the warden, "I wish to pay for the freedom of this man." Her voice lacked her earlier fears. Instead it was filled with courage and determination. Ethan eyed her through the bars with disbelief. His tired blue eyes filled with hope at her words.

"Why you wanna do that, lady?" the warden asked while digging through his nostril with his finger.

She ignored his distasteful manners and continued. "He is my servant; I have come to repay his debt."

"Too late," the warden said and spat on the side of the road, "He's already been sold."

"I'll pay you thirty gold donars for his release," Elizabeth bribed, holding up her purse.

The warden gave her a sinister grin. "I might be more tempted if you included yourself in the bargain."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open with shock at his crude words. Her green eyes cast a venomous gleam as anger burned through her blood. "How dare you?! Have you no decency at all? You deserve to be in this prison to rot like the pig you are!"

The crowd had taken notice of the scene unfolding before them. A ring encircled the area with eager eyes watching. The warden laughed at her words. "Whatever you say, lady."

The warden snapped the reins and the horses trotted forward. Elizabeth was running on fury and forgot about her own safety. She leapt in front of the horses and clutched the lead bridle to stop the team.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get out of the way!"

"I told you to release him," she insisted sternly, "For your rudeness I should insist you turn him over to me without pay, but I will be generous if you obey me now."

Hoof beats sounded from behind her, but Elizabeth didn't take notice. Her eyes were attuned to visibly frustrated driver.

The warden's chest heaved up and down as his temper rose. "That's it, wench," he growled as he jumped down from his seat. She stood firm as he marched over to her and gripped her arm with an iron force.

"I told you once, I'll tell you again, get the hell out of my way!"

"Release that woman at once!"

Gasps arose from the surrounding crowd as they focused their attention on the arriving man. Elizabeth had no idea who had come to rescue her but she saw that her captor's face paled and he released his grasp on her arm.

"Your highness, I—uh—I didn't see you there. I was just telling this lady here…"

"I know what you were doing," Prince John said in a stone voice. Elizabeth's heart had been steady throughout all of this but now it reached an impossible speed.

"Sire, I'm merely obeying orders," the warden explained, "She was forcing me to fall behind schedule."

Her determination sparked back to life at his accusing words. "I asked him to release my servant, but he refused," Elizabeth said, "He even suggested I give him my favors in exchange for my request."

Prince John pursed his lips, "Is this true?" he directed the question to the warden."

"Well—uh—I wasn't…serious, your highness."

"Release her servant at once," the prince ordered, "You will not receive her offer for your rudeness. I will speak to my father about your future employment."

The warden swallowed hard at his punishment and nodded, "Yes, sire."

Elizabeth smiled as the warden opened the wagon and unlocked Ethan's chains. She raced over to her friend and gave him a joyful embrace. "For a moment, I thought your mother had come from heaven to rescue me," Ethan whispered.

"Meet me at the gate," she told him softly and released him from her hold.

Ethan nodded and began to walk towards the gate. Elizabeth kept her fluttering heart in check as she stopped in front of the mounted prince. "I thank you with all my heart, your highness."

She turned around before her cheeks bloomed with color and walked with nimble feet towards the gate. "Wait!"

Elizabeth winced and stopped at the prince's order, "Yes, sire?"

Prince John stopped in front of her and smile. "I don't believe we've ever met."

"No we haven't your highness."

She turned around and took a few steps forward but he pulled in front of her. "You are supposed to tell me your name."

"How so?" she asked, looking over his shoulder at the gate. Her freedom.

"It was an unspoken request."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, "Forgive me, I was unaware."

Again, she tried to step passed him but he blocked her path. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm not, your highness."

"Then tell me your name."

She swallowed hard and shut her eyes. "Elizabeth."

"Is there a last name or title that goes with that?"

A title! Dear God, how could he be so inquisitive? She had to give him a title or else he would realize she was dressing far above her station. Should she use Nendir's suggestion of duchess? No, they're too few of those surely he would know she wasn't that high of a title.

"Elizabeth Weir, Countess of…Thorwald," she lied while he stomach twisted into a noose.

The Prince smiled and her heart melted into a puddle. "Countess Weir, a pleasure meeting you."

He held out his hand, everything inside her quivered as she slipped her hand into his and he brushed it with his lips. She was going to die on the spot, she just knew it.

"Now, countess, I must know, do you always rescue debtors?"

Hearing him call her friend a debtor made her forget that the wind rustling his hair made him look even more rakish than ever. "Ethan is not a debtor. He was falsely accused."

He smiled a little, "I'm sorry to inform you of this but every man in debtor's prison claims to be falsely accused."

"You don't understand, sire, my ste…my aunt," she corrected, "sold him so she could earn a few extra donars."

"I must thank your aunt for this injustice," he said smoothly, "Otherwise I would never have met a beauty like you."

Two things occurred at his words. One, her insides turned into mush and two, she felt insulted. Behind those pretty words was the truth behind his pleasure. He had lined her up as another conquest and she would rather die a virgin than allow herself to be turned into a temporary doxy.

She shook her head and curtsied, "Good day your highness."

Elizabeth caught the surprised look on his face before swerving around him to continue her journey towards the gate. A smug smile rested on her lips as she walked with a dignified gait. She had conquered her attraction for him at last.

* * *

John stared at her retreating form for several moments before shaking his head in disbelief. Never before had a woman been immune to his charms. It was unthinkable. Women were supposed to melt like butter in his hands, how had this countess managed to keep her solid form?

"Your highness," King Hector's steward called and John broke his gaze from the countess to focus his attention on him.

"Yes, Brekan?" he asked.

"The King wishes to speak with you immediately."

"Big surprise," he muttered to himself. John walked with the attitude of a condemned prisoner as he made is way into the palace. Many ladies caught his eye and he gave them a few winks of encouragement. They giggled and waltzed away.

He walked into the Royal Study where both of his parents were waiting. The king seemed to be busy going over tax reports while his mother embroidered quietly in a comfortable chair next to his desk.

"I have thought of many things," Hector said, not looking up from his study, "I have envisioned thousands of different, scandalous scenarios but never, in my wildest dreams did I ever think that my son would become a _thief_!" He punctuated the last word by tossing his quill pen down on the desk.

The king rose from his chair and stomped towards him. "What in God's name were you thinking?!"

"That you needed a little more drama in your life."

"Your sarcasm is in poor taste."

"Fine, I'll be serious," John stated, "I refuse to marry Jastina. I have said that a thousand times, when are you going to listen?"

"So you ran away for my attention like an adolescent boy?" the king asked, "When will you ever grow up?"

"I didn't run away to get your attention, I ran away because I felt I had no other choice."

"You're absolutely right, you don't," Hector stated, "In three months you will marry Jastina and that is final."

"And if I don't?" John inquired, "You can't force me to say 'I do'."

The king sucked in a breath and scowled at his son. "It is your duty; if you deny your responsibility you will face dire consequences."

"Like what?" he challenged, "Are you going to torture me? Stretch me on the rack? Lay me on a bed of hot coals? I'm curious, what could you possibly do to me that would make me want to throw myself into an unwanted marriage?"

Queen Sari looked up from her embroidery at last. She had been so used to these arguments that she hardly noticed them anymore. However, her son's words caught her attention. "John, you know better than to treat your father like that."

"I'm sorry, mother, but I hate having my life chosen for me," he apologized to her with tenderness in his eyes and voice.

Hector stood straight with his hands crossed behind his back. A mask of determination was etched like stone on his face. "You will return Baroness Emmagen's property immediately and we will continue our discussion when you return, is that understood?"

John tilted his head to the side. "No, run that by me again."

The king shook his head and glared at him with venomous eyes. At that precise moment he was wondering if the Devil himself had bred with his wife and created this creature standing in front if him. "You are dismissed."

His son rolled his eyes and quit the room immediately. "That went rather well," Sari said in a sardonic tone.

"He is impossible!" Hector declared, "I liked him better as a screaming infant. Why did he have to grow up into a monster?"

"Our son is hardly a monster," Sari said, "He is simply rebelling from your tight grasp."

"I have to be firm or else he would run wild like a dragon."

"Perhaps you are too firm," she declared, "You never rewarded him with your approval. Eventually he gave up seeking it and chose to infuriate you at every turn."

"I'm following the same parental methods my own father used."

"Exactly," Sari said, "You told me how you despised how your father treated you. Imagine if you had been denied the choice for a wife?"

"That never happened."

"But it could have. If your father had not died when you were eighteen, he very well would have chosen some far away princess for you to wed."

Hector sighed. She was right and he hated to admit it. He had been lucky in the sense that he got to choose his bride. He had known Sari for years before courting her and eventually proposing. He wasn't even giving his own son the chance to acquaint himself with the princess.

"I see your point my dear," he conceded but threw up his hands in frustration, "but he is a rascal. The only interest he shows in women is for nightly activities."

"Of course he does," Sari said with a smile and left her chair. She stood before her husband and held both of his hands in hers. "He is the most handsome creature to ever grace this earth; it's natural for him to pursue the sport of love and not the life."

"What is your proposal then?"

"Give him a chance to find it."

Hector shook his head. "He'll continue with his bachelorhood if I give him the chance."

"Than put a _little_ pressure on him," she said with emphasis, "Just enough to make him search but not too much that he'll rebel."

Hector pursed his lips and nodded, "I'm intrigued, what is your plan, my love?"

Sari smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek, "It will cut into your plans with Ralutia but I swear to you, it will have our son wed within three months."

* * *

"Yes, this is dough," Andra told the baby resting in his cozy bassinette. "I'm making cinnamon scones."

Tughan gurgled and picked up a wooden rattle to shake.

She smiled at the infant and continued to stir the mixture. "I hope your mother is home soon, it won't be long before you'll want your dinner as well."

Marta arrived carrying a wicker basket full of wet clothes. "Is he behaving properly?"

Andra nodded. "He's a quiet as a mouse."

"That's good, where did Teyla and Elizabeth run off to anyways? They've been gone for an awfully long time."

"Oh, the baroness needed something from Tirsa and Teyla decided she needed some time away from the manor," she recited perfectly. The three of them had decided to keep their plan a secret in case they failed. It would have destroyed Marta completely if she built up all of her hope and they didn't bring Ethan home.

"It's odd that Teyla would leave Tughan like this," Marta mused aloud.

"I guess she wanted a few hours to herself."

Marta nodded in acceptance and walked outside to hang the clothes out to dry. Andra sprinkled more cinnamon into the batter and stirred. "Now we're going to bake them," she told the baby.

She poured the batter into the scone tin. After testing the coals to see if they were hot enough, she placed the tin into the oven. Tughan let out a small cry and she turned around to see what was wrong.

"You're hungry aren't you," she said. Andra cooed and scooped the whimpering baby into her arms and bounced him around. Tughan laughed and forgot about his hunger temporarily.

Andra walked over to the window, still carrying the baby. She let out a soft gasp and a smile lit up her face. The wagon was pulling up to the manor with Elizabeth driving. Teyla sat beside her and Ethan stared at his home with pure joy shining through his eyes. "Yes!" she shouted and raced out of the kitchen.

Marta had become the perfect worker. It was her only solace after losing Ethan. The baroness was pleased with her cold, distant behavior around her. The mistress also appreciated the fact that her work ethic had improved immensely. Perhaps she would start rebelling against Rodmilla and become the worst servant imaginable, but for now she needed to take her mind off of her grief.

She was hanging a linen sheet on the line when she heard four wooden wheels rolling over gravel. She turned around to greet their return and froze.

It couldn't be true. It was impossible. Her mind had deserted her, she knew it right then. There was no way that Ethan was leaping off of the wagon and running towards her. There was no way he was now standing in front of her. There was no way he was taking the wicker basket from her hands.

Tears sprung to her eyes. Was it because this wasn't real or because she wanted it to be? Ethan reached up and cupped her cheek. It was warm flesh.

"Oh Ethan!" she cried and embraced him with all her heart. He was here. He was not rotting away in the bowels of a grimy ship. He was not slaving away beneath the Sartugan sun. He was here, with her, alive and leaning in to kiss her now.

Teyla and Elizabeth stood together with twin smiles on their faces. Andra burst free from the manor door with Tughan still in her arms. Teyla gasped with joy upon seeing her son and took him from Andra so she could cuddle him close.

Marta and Ethan laughed and held each other as tightly as they could. Their three friends just watched with delight, knowing that they were forgotten but glad to be. At this moment all was right in the world. At this moment love was all that mattered.

* * *

"I'm not going," Ronon told John as the prince readied his horse.

"I'm not asking you," John replied not even looking up at his friend.

"But you were going to," Ronon finished, "you are going to the Emmagen estate and you want me to go with you."

"I repeat I did not ask you to go."

"You want me to go to the same house where the most vile woman alive lives," Ronon continued, "the devil's mistress that tried to sink her claws into me."

"Lucky for you that you realized in time," John reminded him, "I did not ask you to go…but…"

"There it is," Ronon remarked.

"This has nothing to do with me," John explained, "I was thinking of you."

"Me, you were thinking of me when you stole the Emmagens' horse?" Ronon asked doubtfully.

"Yes," John continued, "you always talk about her—every time we talk about women you bring her up—granted she is a serpent but I'm thinking if you confront her than maybe you will get her out of your system and you will stop dwelling over it."

Ronon narrowed his eyes, "Is that all?"

"Yes," John said.

Then Rodney appeared walking uneasily between the stalls his eyes darting from one horse to the other, "So…uh which one's mine?"

Ronon looked at him a cross between astonishment and amusement, "You are going to ride?"

Rodney nodded, "Yes I'm going with the prince."

Ronon raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

John pulled Ronon aside, "Right I forgot to mention that he is coming along," Ronon stared at him, "What?!" John inquired.

"When he falls off the horse can I watch?" Ronon grinned.

John smirked a little but then grew serious, "You can't leave me with him!"

"Why is he even going? I doubt it was his idea."

"No my _father_ and his master thought that he should spend some more time with royalty and apparently returning horses counts." John explained.

"And you want _me_ to come along?"

"Yes I need to have someone there, someone that will keep me from throwing him off a cliff."

"Then it can't be me because I'll help you," Ronon told him.

John took the authority route, "It is your civic duty to accompany me since I am your prince."

"Then I guess now I'm a traitor," Ronon said, "why don't you march me to prison and put me on the rack yourself."

"I'm not going to say please," John told him.

"Good you would lose all of my respect."

John was silent for a moment, "Look just come, for me as a friend, I'm begging you to help me bring the horse. Seriously we'll say hello, drop off the horse and go."

Ronon gritted his teeth, "fine…but if anything happens I swear prince or no prince I will kill you."

John smiled, "I'll hand you the knife myself."

Across the way Rodney tried to mount a horse, he put his foot in the stirrup hoisted himself up and fell over the other side of the horse. John turned and smiled to Ronon, "If it makes you feel any better we could spook his horse."

Ronon grinned, "It's a deal."

* * *

"How many carrots do you need chopped?" Elizabeth asked as she tied and apron around her kirtle.

"Three," Andra replied as she dashed paprika into the stew.

She picked up three orange carrots and pumped water over them until they were clean. Ethan walked in dressed in clean work clothes and wearing a smile on his face.

"Where did you run off to?" Andra asked.

"Marta and I were getting reacquainted."

Elizabeth blinked in puzzlement while Andra gasped and shook her finger at him. "Shame on you to say such things with an innocent present," she admonished lightly.

Ethan merely laughed a little. "The baroness was informed of my homecoming."

"What story did you tell her?" Elizabeth asked as she chopped of the green stems of the carrots.

"Merely that I worked off my debt and they released me," he told them, "I doubt she heard much of what I said. She waved me off and told me to chop some wood later."

"Glad to see she is still heartless," she replied. Elizabeth finished chopping the carrots and added them into the stew.

"You never told me about the rescue," Andra said.

"You should have seen our girl," Ethan said, "Ella was the very image of her mother, dressed in fancy clothes with her hair pulled back."

Elizabeth shook her head while dicing a tomato. "I looked like a leaf in that dress."

"You know you looked beautiful."

She shook her head again but her smile betrayed her.

"She looked like a noble woman, standing there talking to the prince."

Elizabeth missed the tomato and sliced her finger. She gasped in pain and put the injured digit in her mouth. Andra whirled around with wonder in her eyes and a smile lighting up her face. "You spoke to the prince?!"

"A little," she confessed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ella, this doesn't make sense," Ethan added, "You've been stalking the prince ever since you saw him at the parade two years ago."

"I'm not stalking him," she protested, "Joceline is the stalker. I merely admire him from afar." She put some horsetail on her finger and wrapped it with a little gauze. "And I didn't tell you because it's not that big of a deal."

"Oh yes, we just happen to meet royalty every day, meeting the future king of Carida is of no importance what so ever," Andra said in a dry tone. "I thought you would be excited, love, you finally met him."

"I didn't meet him, Elizabeth Weir, Countess of Thorwald did," she replied.

"Even if you had to lie, I would have been excited."

"Meeting him changed things," Elizabeth explained, "I finally saw how arrogant and conceited he is."

"Yes, he is true villain," Ethan rolled his eyes, "Especially when he rescued you."

Andra blinked, "Rescue? What rescue?"

"It has hardly a rescue," Elizabeth protested.

"What else would you call it?" Ethan asked with a smile.

"I demand to know what happened!" Andra shouted, waving her spoon at both of them.

"When I was trying to rescue Ethan, the Warden was very rude about my request," she began, "He suggested that I…service him in return for Ethan's release."

Andra let out a gasp, "If I were there I would have skewered him."

"Let her continue," Ethan insisted.

"Oh yes, then what happened?"

"Well, I tried to stop the Warden from leaving, and he yelled at me to get out of his way. That's when the prince showed up and demanded he release me. I explained the situation and he told the Warden to let Ethan go."

"That was very noble of him," Andra remarked.

"Hardly," she scoffed in reply, "he probably wanted to impress me into his bed."

"I doubt it," Ethan said, "at least not at first. He seemed to genuinely want to help you."

"Perhaps, but afterwards he kept pressing me for my name." Elizabeth took a seat on a rickety stool and put her head in her hands, "I can't believe I told him I was the Countess of Thorwald."

"You had to tell him something," Andra defended her.

"But did I have to tell him that?"

"It's not that far of a stretch," Ethan said, "The title belonged to your grandparents. It would have passed to your mother if she hadn't married your father."

"I know but I could have given him a less prestigious title like marchioness or viscountess."

"Don't stress yourself," Andra said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, "It's doubtful the prince will ever see you again."

* * *

Joceline was brushing her raven hair up in her room. She counted every stroke to ensure the most possible softness and shimmer. Once she was done, she checked her nails for any chips or flaws. And now her face, yes it was perfectly painted and groomed. No blemishes or wrinkles in sight. Yes indeed she was the most radiant woman alive.

The sound of horses disturbed her mood. "Who on earth could that be?" she growled.

She walked to the window to yell at the oncoming person. Her words died in her throat. Backed by the Duke of Glenwood and some man who seemed very unsteady on a horse, was the prince coming towards her home.

"Mother!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. Joceline raced for her mother's suite where Rodmilla was finishing up her own primping. "Mother, the prince is right outside!"

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, "We must hurry. Go change into your blue gown, the one with the Naldarian lace, and wear your pearls with the sapphire. Hurry, we don't have much time!"

Joceline shot out the room as if dogs were on her heels. Rodmilla smoothed out her skirts and ran down the stairs. "Don't you dare open that door!" she ordered Marta as the servant's hand was extended towards the handle.

She leapt off the stairs and shoved Marta aside. After quickly patting her hair to make sure it was still in place, she put on a smile and opened the door. "Your highness, what a pleasant surprise, what brings you to my home?"

"I came to return your horse, baroness," Prince John said, gesturing to the animal.

"Oh, well I had no idea it was missing. Thank you, sire, of course you can borrow our horse whenever you like."

"That's unnecessary, baroness, but thank you for your kindness."

At that moment, Joceline burst out of the door like water cracking down a dam. She dusted out the wrinkles on her dress and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Even though she was gasping out her breaths, the run from her bedchamber had bloomed color into her cheeks and brought a sparkle to her blue eyes. The pearls with the teardrop sapphire the size of a quail's egg nestled just above the deep valley of her breasts.

"You're highness, I had no idea we would be receiving this honor," she cooed as she took a deep curtsy. The sapphire dipped down so it brushed her soft breasts, drawing every man's eye to that ample bosom.

"Please, it is I who am honored," he replied, tearing his eyes back up towards her face. They shared a smile, but the moment was interrupted when Ronon cleared his throat. "It was lovely seeing you again," Prince John continued, "We must be going."

"Oh but you must stay for dinner," Joceline said.

"Yes, your highness," Rodmilla agreed.

"Dinner?" he reflected, "I don't know…"

"Please, I insist."

"We really should go," Ronon said.

"But I'm hungry," Rodney whined, earning a growl from the much larger man.

"We have the finest cook in the kingdom, except yours of course sire," Rodmilla boasted. Rodney perked up at her prideful words. "Please, I won't take no for an answer."

John sighed and shot Ronon and apologetic smile. "Well, I suppose I am your captive then."

Ronon's green eyes shot daggers at him inscribed with the message _you are going to pay for this_. "Sorry," John mouthed.

"I will speak to Andra immediately," Rodmilla said, "And Ethan will direct you to the stables."

"No need, baroness," the prince said, "I've been there before."

"Yes, of course," she chuckled, "You have a brilliant wit, your highness."

"You are too kind, baroness."

John led his two followers towards the stables at the back of the property. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I am going to kill you!" Ronon declared as he leapt out of his saddle.

"What was I supposed to say?"

"NO!"

"You can't always say that when you're in my position," John explained, "Come on, you need to face Devil's Bride or else everyone will call you a coward."

"Like who?"

"Well…" John searched desperately for a reply, "him," he gave Rodney a light punch in the arm as the apprentice tried to unbridle his horse.

"Ow!" the mage exclaimed, "That hurt."

Ronon raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm terrified."

"Look, we'll stay for one hour, two tops and then we'll be on our way."

Ronon crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the sprinkling of rotten hay on the floor of the stable. It had been easier to play around for the past year, becoming more of a rakehell than he ever had been before he was a duke. Now he was faced with the reason for why he turned into a Lothario. But what the prince said was true. The sooner he faced his witch, the sooner he could put the past behind him for good.

"One hour."

"On my honor as a prince," John swore.

"You have no honor."

John smiled, "Just move before you change your mind."

* * *

Elizabeth was busy gathering the laundry from all of the rooms so she failed to note all the excitement going on around her. She finished piling on a small mountain of Joceline's dresses onto the pile of clothes in her overflowing basket. It was a heavy load, but she was anxious to finish up early so she could help Andra with dinner.

She heard voices as she made her way towards the staircases, strange voices that she didn't recognize. She craned her head past the laundry and looked with a curious eye at the visitors.

There was an average sized man dressed in loose brown robes, similar to those of a monk but they didn't nearly as uncomfortable. She frowned as she noticed the next person. What on earth was Lord Dex doing here? Did Teyla know about this? Her questions became sugar and melted away as the next man who appeared sent a shock through her like a douse of ice water.

Prince John was standing in the entryway of her manor.

Elizabeth stifled a gasp as she ducked away from the staircase. She dumped the pile of laundry on the floor, not caring what happened to the multitude of clothes, and raced to Teyla's room at the far end of the hallway. The girl had been moved to the smaller room so Tughan's cries wouldn't disturb her mother and sister's beauty sleep.

She crashed open the door, making Teyla jump in fright as she was removing Tughan's dirty changing rags. "Prince John and Lord Dex are here!"

Teyla dropped the jar of ointment where is crashed onto the floor. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"I'm afraid not."

Teyla sat back in her chair with a look of worry in her brown eyes. "Dear God, what am I going to do?"

"What am _I_ going to do?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "The prince is downstairs."

"_Ronon_ is downstairs!"

"Well, I see both of you have heard of our visitors," Andra's voice announced her presence in the doorway.

Teyla's eyes suddenly filled with hope. "Andra can't you do something?"

Andra pursed her lips. "What can I do?"

"Aside from poisoning the guests, there isn't anything she can do," Elizabeth agreed with the cook.

"I think you'd be surprised."

"No, I can't do _anything_," Andra stressed the last word, giving Teyla a look of warning.

"Well, maybe you could make them fall asleep or just a little sick."

"Lobelia will give them nausea," Elizabeth said.

Teyla smiled a little, "So that's why Joceline got sick after she pushed you into the river six years ago."

"We are _not_ poisoning the prince," Andra stated.

At that moment Rodmilla popped her head into the room, "Oh there you are," she spoke to her youngest daughter, "what on earth are you doing up here when we have guests."

"I'm changing my son," Teyla told her mother, "You might not know this but it comes with being a mother."

Rodmilla frowned, "I won't have that attitude right now, we have important guests and I need you to act civilized."

"You cannot possibly expect me to dine with the prince and Ronon! Because of your actions he's liable to stab me with a fork!"

Rodmilla sighed exasperated, "I don't have time for this, you are coming downstairs, and we need to act like a family for proprieties sake."

"Right so you can pawn Joceline off to the prince," Teyla said sarcastically, "That was always your goal wasn't it? And it didn't matter who you hurt as long as you reached it."

Her mother glared at her daughter coldly, "You are coming downstairs if I have to drag you by your hair, I'm sure Lord Dex would appreciate that." Now her eyes turned to her servants, "And you two, get yourselves down to the kitchen, we need a feast fit for royalty."

"Me?" Elizabeth spoke frantically, "You want me to serve the prince?"

"If you would like I could find you a costume and have you play the court jester," Rodmilla told her airily, "what did you think you'd do, sit and eat with us?"

Andra stepped forward, "Mistress I don't think that having Elizabeth serve the prince is such a good idea."

She turned to her servant, "And what you have me do? Let her be a lazy troll?"

Andra searched for an excuse, luckily Teyla was quicker. She scooped her son up in her arms and walked towards the door, "Well since I'm being ordered downstairs I better hurry."

Rodmilla stopped her in her path, "Where do you think you are going with _that_?!"

Teyla looked at her mother innocently, "I'm going downstairs with my son; he's only an infant you can't possibly think to leave him alone."

"You can't bring him down, word will get out that you have a child and all will be ruined!"

"Well mother," Teyla explained, "The servants are busy, should I just let the pigs take care of him then?"

Rodmilla was silent for a moment, thinking; she turned around to look at Elizabeth, "You take care of him. If he so much as whimpers I'm throwing you out on the street."

She stopped in the doorway and turned to Elizabeth, "After the dinner is over, I expect you to muck the stables and clean the cellar."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, "But that will take all night."

"It's the price you pay for getting a break through dinner."

Rodmilla sashayed out of the room with a smile lighting up her face. Elizabeth took Tughan from Teyla's arms, "At least the prince won't see me, but why didn't she make Marta take care of him? After all I can pull more weight around than she can."

"Because she knows he'll only look at you."

Elizabeth gasped, "She knows about today?!"

"No, she knows that even covered in grime and soot, you are far more beautiful than Joceline."

"That's not…"

"She's right," Andra agreed, "why else do you think you're the one who does all of the dirty work?"

"That doesn't…"

"You saw yourself today, remember how lovely you were? You are still beautiful even without silks and jewels," Teyla said.

Elizabeth bounced the baby in her arms as she mulled over what they said. Sure she had looked lovely in the gown, but wearing her grease stained muslin dress she must look like a twig. "It doesn't matter, Ethan is safe," she replied, "I'll help you change and then I'll hide with Tughan upstairs."

"Thank you," Teyla replied, "I could use your comfort before I have to face the handsome dragon downstairs."

"Make that, _dragons_," Elizabeth replied as she placed Tughan on Teyla's bed.

While Teyla searched around for a suitable dress, Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror. Was it true that despite her rags and dirty skin that she was beautiful? Her waist was fashionably small and her breasts ample enough. There wasn't an inch of excess fat on her body due to hard labor and denied meals. She remembered how the dress had clung tightly to her body and how soft it felt on her skin. Oh how she longed to be in that gown again, if only for a few moments. Its beauty made her feel like a princess, worthy of the prince downstairs.

She blinked in surprise at that lost thought and quickly shook it away. She quickly walked over and helped Teyla select a dress. Rodmilla was foolish to think she had to worry about her. Joceline in her velvet gowns and fat diamonds would always outshine her filthy stepsister.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later Teyla came rushing down the stairs to avoid being late for dinner, perhaps by some miracle she wouldn't attract too much attention. She almost rolled her eyes at her naiveté; right the famous Emmagen whore not attracting attention, she had better luck sprouting wings.

Teyla peeked through the doorway in the music room, she saw the prince and Joceline talking in the study, but she couldn't see anyone else. Teyla was mulling over the best entrance that would attract the least amount of attention, she didn't even see the figure behind her before it was too late.

"You're late, was a lover keeping you busy?"

Teyla whirled around to see Ronon sneering at her. He looked every bit the part of the duke, the fine clothing accentuated his handsome features with the fine green velvet shirt bringing out the green in his eyes. Her heart ached when she saw that his green eyes stared at her with anger and malcontent, when only a few moments before she had seen those same eyes filled with innocent cheer: her son had his father's eyes.

"Of course not," Teyla explained softly after she found her tongue, "I was just getting ready for dinner."

"Please tell me you will not be dining here."

Teyla looked at him apologetically, "I'm afraid so." Ronon's eyes seemed to be burning holes into her; they seemed to reflect fire and ice all at once. Teyla couldn't take seeing him look at her with such disdain so she averted her eyes to the floor.

Ronon stared at the woman in front of him, anger boiling his blood. This spiteful and ruthless creature in front of him was responsible for the pain he still had to endure. He hated her for nearly fooling him, for being the only woman he had considered sharing his life and then learning who she really was. She had played the part so well, so innocent and kind, he thought he finally understood what love was, what a damn fool he was.

But in this moment, he hated himself more than he hated Teyla. He hated the fact that he was weak, the fact was that when he saw her just now he didn't think about her betrayal; rather it was her beauty that nearly stilled his tongue. The gold velvet dress made her look like an angel. The skirt was long and full, embroidered with green thread so it looked like ivy and sprinkled with wine colored roses. Tiny silk roses edged the neckline and her simple strand of pearls rested above her breasts. God, did she have to look so beautiful?

Teyla looked up hesitantly only to see he was still staring at her, "Please stop looking at me like that," she begged him.

"Like what?"

"As if you want to hurt me," Teyla explained.

"I do want to hurt you," Ronon told her, "I want to hurt you so much more than you hurt me."

Teyla shook her head, "I didn't do anything," she continued, "you have to understand, I don't know what happened but I was never unfaithful to you."

Ronon rolled his eyes, "What makes you think that I will believe that?"

"Because it is the truth, I don't know what my mother and sister did to make you think this but it was all them. They never wanted me to be with you…"

"Don't start," Ronon told her.

"Ronon listen to me," Teyla said, "I loved you, I still…"

"Don't say it," Ronon warned her, his eyes flashing with anger, "I don't believe you, I will never believe you."

"But…"

"No, every word that you have ever said to me was a lie, I'm just glad your sister was kind enough to warn me before you finished casting a spell on me you witch!"

Teyla tried to fight the tears, but she couldn't stop a few from cascading down her cheeks. The tears didn't soften Ronon a bit.

"Oh there you are," Rodmilla said butting in, "dinner is nearly ready, please join us."

Without a word Ronon turned out of the room, leaving Teyla to watch him rush away from her, avoiding her like a plague. Her mother followed him out of the room, the emptiness in Teyla's heart making her feel completely alone.

* * *

The dinner went splendidly for Rodmilla and Joceline. The prince was quite eloquent and spoke to Joceline throughout the entire evening. The sorcerer's apprentice paid strict attention to his food and Ronon ignored Teyla who sat in silence during the meal.

"It has been a wonderful evening, baroness, but I'm afraid I must be leaving." Prince John said as he stood up from his chair.

"Oh, but surely you can stay for a little while longer," Joceline said.

"Nothing would make me happier, but if I linger any more I won't make it home before dark."

"My manor has plenty of rooms, your highness, if it came to that," the baroness said.

"No," Ronon cut in, "that won't be necessary."

"But I don't want to ride that filthy, flea ridden horse at this hour," Rodney complained. He let out a yelp when Ronon stomped on his foot under the table.

"My friend is right," John said, "I can't overtax your hospitality anymore than I already have."

"Nonsense, sire, my house is always welcome for everyone."

Teyla let out a small cough and quickly took a sip of her wine to hide her smile.

"Thank you for the offer, but I must decline."

"You are too kind, your highness," Joceline said, "Please feel free to visit us at anytime."

John gave her his most charming smile. "I may just do that, Lady Joceline."

"Please, call me Joceline," she replied with a just as seductive smile.

Ronon cleared his throat to remind John that he was more than ready to leave. "I will thank you again, Baroness, you have been a more than hospitable host," John said.

Rodmilla and Joceline followed the prince to the front door. Teyla immediately went upstairs in hopes of leaving this horrid evening behind her.

"When is your wedding to the Princess Jastina, your highness?" Rodmilla asked with feigned innocent. She needed to know how much time she had to make Joceline his bride.

"Three months," John mumbled with obvious displeasure.

"We will look forward to the day," Joceline replied.

"Thank you," he stated, but only out of politeness, a fact Rodmilla noticed and smiled over.

The two ladies stood in the doorway as Ronon and Rodney made their way towards the stables. John turned back towards them in the front yard. "It has been a lovely evening, ladies; I look forward to seeing you again."

"As do we, your highness," Rodmilla said as both she and Joceline curtsied.

Movement in the highest window attracted John's eyes. He caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a woman, but he didn't have time to make out her features. It was curious thing, but he waved it off as a watchful servant or maybe just his imagination.

Ronon gave John the silent treatment all the way back to Tirsa, but that was fine as Rodney complained about the cool air and his horse the entire time. John ignored the apprentice's whining and thought about his future. His wedding was in three months and he was fresh out of ideas on how to avoid it. He couldn't give up. There was no way he was going to spend the rest of his life married to a woman he barely knew and couldn't even stand to look at for long periods of time. It was time to get back to the drawing board and figure out what to do next.

They left the horses at the stabled for the boys to feed, water and brush. Rodney left them to return to his master. John turned to his silent friend. "Are you ever going to talk to me?"

"Maybe tomorrow, when my thoughts of killing you are gone."

John smiled and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. His father's steward walked outside, sniffing disdainfully at the stench of horse manure and rotting hay.

"What have I done now?" John asked upon seeing him.

"His majesty, King Hector, and her highness Queen Sari wish to speak with you the king's study as soon as you are able."

"Oh goody," John murmured. "I'll see you later, if I survive," he said to Ronon.

"I'll kill you if you do."

He smiled. "Then I'll see you for my murder tomorrow."

John opted to change out of his riding clothes before going to his meeting with his parents. It gave him ten more minutes of peace before he headed into the storm. The king was at his ledger while Sari worked on her embroidery. She looked up and smiled at her son when he entered the room.

"You wished to speak with me, sir?" John asked.

"Yes, I did," Hector replied. He put his quill in the ink well and turned to face his son. "I have taken into consideration how you must be feeling about this marriage to Jastina."

John blinked in surprise. "Is the world about to end?"

"John!" Sari chastised her son with a frown.

"I know you are surprised," the king replied, "The truth of the matter is that you are twenty-five years old and it is time you were married. However, your mother brought up the excellent point that I had the luxury of choosing a wife, something very few monarchs are given. I should have considered allowing you the same choice."

John frowned in confusion. "Are you saying you are giving me the chance to find my own wife?" he asked with caution. He knew he was treading on shaky ground.

"Yes."

It felt like a thousand pound bag of sand had just been lifted off of John's shoulder. He smiled with gratitude at his father. "Thank you, I will never forget this."

John turned away, but his father's voice stopped him. "Not so fast, this does not come without conditions."

"Conditions?" He didn't like the sound of that.

"You may like to think of yourself as an enigma to me, but I do know you, John," Hector said, "I was not unlike you when I was young. I know that if I release you from this marriage without terms you will carry on as you have, waiting until the last possible minute to choose your bride. No doubt you wouldn't marry until you were on your deathbed.

"You may choose your own bride, but you must have the woman selected in three months," Hector said, "The betrothal will be announced at the anniversary ball."

"Three months! Are you kidding me?!" John protested.

"It is more than ample time..."

"For a peasant, not a prince!"

"John, be considerate," the queen said, "Now you have the chance to find your own wife."

"If you do not like this offer, I can rescind it and have you marry Jastina instead."

John quieted down in an instant. His mother was right, before he had no options now he had to chance to find someone he could actually stand for the rest of his life.  
"I have three months," John reiterated, "And then you'll announce it at the ball."

"That is correct," Hector said.

John looked up at the painted ceiling and sighed. "Very well, I accept these terms."

"Excellent."

"What are you going to do about Ralutia?" John asked with curiosity.

"Let me worry about that," the king said, "You have some thinking of your own to do."

TBC

* * *

A/N: Did you like this looooong chapter? Next chap Elizabeth recieves a very important item, one you will be familiar with, Teyla discovers something, and we introduce the true villain of this story. 


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